The Stars Told Me So
by Dark Interval
Summary: [Adaptation!] Nel swore her loyalty to Aquaria and the protection of its people. Roger just wanted her to come home. As the Aquaria-Airyglyph War raged on, peace seemed futile and Roger's hopes began to fade. However, when his best friend told him salvation laid amongst the stars, Roger never imagined that help would literally arrive in the form of one Fayt Leingod. (Fayt/Roger)
1. Time to Grow Up

**Author's note: **

Hi! Please don't be alarmed by this story if you find it familiar to Comic-Decadence's! I'm the same person and as explained in my account profile, I'm not going to be updating that old account anymore. Instead, I will focus my submissions on this solo account instead! Taito-fan and I won't be working on this together anymore, and as such, I will be doing heavy editing on the plot and pairings. The story was too good to be abandoned and I'm still a huge SO: TTEOT fan, so what the heck right?

This story takes place during the events before the game's story. It'll be heavily concentrated on the happenings of Elicoor II (the best planet ever) and our three resident heroes (the best party members ever). I'll be changing some stuff from the official game, which is mainly relationships. I'm aiming to develop the Elicoorians more via background story, so hope everything works out peachy! The story will eventually catch up to Fayt and the events of the game, with my own twists and added character interactions and moments.

Pairings: Fayt/Roger (we need more of this), slight!Albel/Roger (we need more of this too), and others (that I have yet to decide, but knowing me, they'd probably just emerge as I write).

Sorry, no Fayt/Sophia because I view them as only really good friends. I'd like to maintain that childhood-friendship bond they share because it's less strange, less forced, and a female friend is always good to have around to assit in matters of the heart *coughFayt/Rogercough*

**Disclaimer:** Star Ocean: Till the End of Time and all of it's characters belong to Square Enix. If I did own it, Albel, Nel and Roger would be mandatory party members and Adray wouldn't even exist.

* * *

**The Stars Told Me So**

**by Dark Interval**

**Chapter 1: Time to Grow Up**

* * *

Our world has been ripped, torn apart by war: a meaningless massacre strewn throughout the continent of Gaitt. We were plunged into the dark underbellies of hardship, engulfing the souls and hearts of the guilty and innocent alike. For war you see, doesn't really give the souls of the innocent much choice. Many said that this violent struggle could have been avoided if one party agreed to a treaty of peace and mutual concessions; many had argued that an outbreak of war was unavoidable between the continent's two strongest powers. However, opinions mattered not in this cruel conflict, in this raging pandemonium. People had to fight, a nation had to be divided, alliances crumbled and loved ones were separated, lost to the uglies of senseless violence.

This land had fallen to Greed.

Its people submitted to Pride.

The City of Aquios was located in the continent's northern region: the pride and joy, the capital of the Kingdom Aquaria, home to Her Majesty Romeria Zim Emurelle and the church of Apris. This kingdom served as the home for the largest, most advanced runological lab in the sovereignty as well as the Great Temple of Apris - a sacred site for devout pilgrims. There lived peaceful folk, humble in worship and surrounded and protected by the land's beauty and prosperity.

As opposed to this prosperous and holy land, high up in the snowy mountains' fortress, stood the Royal City of Airyglyph, the centre of governance for the Kingdom of Airyglyph, and home to his majesty Arzei. In this cold and frigid climate, resided great legendary beings called Air Dragons, safely and warmly nestled within castle walls, breeding, breathing, waiting.

Airyglyph was ready for war.

Airyglyph was jealous and immensely frustrated by the unfairness of it all, driven on by an invisible entity called desperation. They wanted Aquaria lands, its prosperity, and its bountiful and ever-flowing wealth; because you see, its people were suffering. The rich became poor and the poor became even poorer; the satisfied grew hungry and the hungry starved. The cold was killing its populace gravely by huge numbers. So was the unfortunate situation which befell this wintry kingdom, escalating significantly in the preparation of war. Airyglyph demanded the holy lands, wanted, needed to feed its people, strived for total territorial dominance, but were strongly opposed by the Aquarians. Aquaria claimed that Apris had blessed their lands and that this blessing, this privilege was beholden to no one but the almighty's followers alone. Their defiance however, only proved to make the already strained situation worse. Both parties couldn't see eye to eye. Calm reasoning were reaching its limits, fierce disagreements turned to international disputes, and disputes evolved into physical and intentional acts of violence between the two sides, until the possible idea of truce could no longer be reached.

Airyglyph readied their units: The Dragon Brigade lead by Lord Vox, The Storm Brigade led by Count Waltar, and The Black Brigade led by the notorious Albel Nox; all of which were fearful and formidable opponents. In response to that, Aquaria dispatched their troops: The Aquaria Runological Unit led by Clair Lasband, The Aquaria Army, and The Secret Legion led by Nel Zelpher of the Crimson Blade.

After the events of the Aquor-Greeton war, it was truly unfortunate that we were left to the same fate. Gaitt's peace was threatened once more; yet another war was afoot. Our world had never been so bleak, torn by the actions, the hands of humanity. This was not the time for cowardice, not a single man retreats, least we suffer from the weight of an utter humiliating defeat. This was a turning point in our lives, this was where animosity took the place of gaiety and blitheness, this was when we had to put the past behind us and learn to be strong, and this was when the youthful displays of imaginative heroism had to come to an end. We were fighting a real battle of survival, not re-enacting the life and times of Robin Hood and his band of merry men. It was time to put those wooden swords away and pick a better poison, a more reliable compadre.

Neville Zelpher, chief intelligence officer of Aquaria long past: a great leader, a formidable combatant, and also my father. Killed in action, he passed this position down to me and somehow, I'll be lying if I said that I didn't expect the possibility of a similar fate. I didn't want those children to be involved more than they already were, whether they knew it or not.

The gravel beneath my feet shifted, my footsteps fell to a reluctant drag. The Lost City of Surferio was fast approaching and it pained me, tugged at my heartstrings that this inevitable farewell had to take place. It was much too soon for my liking. Today would be our last adventure. Today would be their first passage into maturity and the reality of a world's cruel spite; today they will learn to be real men. Gone were the moments of heart-felt merriment; gone were the days when I participated in their fantasy realm of heroic antics, watched them grow.

"Nel! Nel! Hey guys! Nel's here!"

I distinctively heard they jubilant cry of one of my fellow "heroes", unable to help the smile, which graced my lips as he was soon followed by his gang of five. He scurried over as fast as his short legs could carry him, stumbling over once in a while and occasionally blinded by his helmet, which looked twice the size of his head. The young Menodix tripped and fell forward with an unceremonious "Oof!", only to rise quickly to grin up at me.

"Nel! Nel! Nel!"

By now, the young child was joined by his group of friends. I offered them all a warm smile, kneeling down to their eye level. They had all come and were as ready and eager as always: Lucien, Vellion, Dribe, Lezard, Melt, and Roger. I patted the youngest of the lot on the head.

"Hello, boys, ready for another exciting adventure?"

I hoped the little perk of my voice sounded convincing enough.

Choruses of "Yeah!" resounded from the little mischief-makers as they reached for their respective weapons. I watched them with a lingering twinge of regret, hating the prospect of war more and more. There was a heightening doubt on my part of revealing the whole truth to them. I couldn't bear to. I still wanted to continue my position as "Lieutenant Nel", a role these children had given me during our first "manly adventure". I still wanted to explore Lezard's potential in alchemy; wished to teach Melt so much more in the art of Runology; longed to continue coaching Lucien, Dribe and Vellion in the field of defence and combat; but more than anything else, I pleaded with Apris to extend my time here just a little longer to aid Roger in getting his "healing" abilities right.

Sure, the kid was exceptionally proficient with the axe and his little landmines, but for some strange reason, there seemed to be rumours going around that the civilians would flee by the mere mention of the word "healing", especially when it was associated with the name "Roger S. Huxley". I would coax him to keep trying, but he would always grumble something along the lines of "healing" being a "girl's job" and "swords and stuff" were "for men only". I always found his subsequent blush comical when I had to unsheathe my daggers to prove my point. As far as I was concerned, the art of healing required more skill and willpower than wielding the finest of weaponry. It honed focus, required absolute awareness, and strengthened the sight of the mind. Besides, not many humanoids possessed this natural inclination towards such an art. Neglecting such potential would be an immense waste. Granted, he wasn't good at it; but for an individual outside the fields of Runology to possess such an ability... who knew what else Roger could pick up?

I patted said boy's head fondly and smirked. I loved them all from the bottom of my heart, had always and will always do, but was there anything wrong in having a particular favorite?

"Aw, Nel! Quit it would ya?"

"You're a man; you can take it!"

They laughed as I smiled, but the more I smiled the more empty I felt on the inside, and I wondered if this was how a mother felt when she watches her children grow up and slowly begin to leave her. Or rather, she leaving them. And it dawned on me there and then: this would be the last time I would ever see these children again.

* * *

"So, what're we gonna do today, Lucien?" came the slow and ever hesitant drawl from the portly humanoid called Vellion, stubby fingers fidgeting every now and then in uncertainty.

The boy in question crossed his arms in his typical all-superior fashion, a wide and cocky grin crawling over his features. Lucien, the eldest of the group, turned to regard his eager companions save Roger, who merely pouted in displeasure. He huffed as Lucien began to give a long speech on the wonders of heroism; tales of valiant heroes who had slain countless of monsters and a vivid elaboration on today's agenda as well as what was to be accomplished. Soon, Lucien began distributing the roles of each member in their little party, leaving Roger, to the horror of all horrors, as nothing but a lookout.

Nel was always their second-in-command, that much had been established long ago due her astounding fighting grace and keen precision in executing attacks; however, something unsettled Roger, rattled him beyond compare. Ever since Lucien had turned the big 13, his attitude had never been more aggravating, never more intolerable, like a splinter lodged in one's foot. In addition, the others always went along so readily with his plans, including Melt and Lezard, the apparently "judgmental" and "mature" ones.

What did Lucien have that he didn't?

"And that's why we're gonna go ta the Passage from Parch to Plenty to see who's the bigger man - no offense ta ya, Nel!" Lucien concluded as the Aquarian shrugged.

"The Passage from Parch to Plenty, you say? My, that is interesting, not to mention formidable," said Melt, mostly to himself as he contemplated the fascinating proposal. Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"Heh, a test of endurance and courage you say?" Lezard hummed, pushing his large spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "Well then, I'm not stopping you. Of course, if you give me a few hours to prepare, I should have enough time to concoct a new batch of elixirs for the trip."

Melt nodded in agreement.

"Yes, yes, and this would also be an opportune moment for me to exercise my newly acquired skills –Nel smiled proudly- What say you, Dribe?"

"Are ya crazy?!" The little fox boy barked. "It's daaaaaaaaangerous!"

Apparently, Dribe's sudden exclamation seemed to have knocked some sense into Vellion's more often than not sluggish mind. The boy's eyes widened, echoing his friend's fear in sputters. Roger did nothing but approach Dribe to give him a good smack at the back of his head.

"Grr, you gutless wonder! Of course it's dangerous, all adventures' gotta be dangerous otherwise where would all the fun be?"

"But there are monsters in there and did I mention I haaaaaaaaate danger?!"

"You idiot! Don't go announcin' stuff like that! Where's your manly pride?!"

"That's enough you two," Nel intervened, folding her arms as she looked them down in mock sternness.

"Roger, don't go forcing Dribe into something he's not comfortable with. That isn't exactly very manly either, understand? We're all friends here, "aspiring heroes of the intangible future". I thought you would've understood everyone's feelings by now. You don't see Lucien criticizing other's short-comings, do you?"

In the background, said boy was grinning away, enjoying the sight of his rival being lectured by the older female. He shook his head. When would Roger ever learn that the key principle of being a real man was to simply grow up?

"No, m'am," Roger said softly, lowering his gaze to the ground. His ears drooped.

He never liked this kind of attention from Nel. Sure, he admired her greatly like everyone else, but he felt more than noticed that she had been constantly breathing down his neck these past few weeks, admonishing him for the slightest of mistakes and pushing him thoroughly on every mission. Oh no, she treated him kindly, as fondly as any mother, but she seemed to be particularly over-protective of him, constantly fussing over him more than the others and it wasn't because he was the youngest. Somehow it unnerved him. It was almost as if she didn't trust him, but could that really be the reason or was there something else concealed beneath the serenity of her smiles?

Nel smiled and placed her hands on her hips, turning to look at Lucien who had been rather quiet throughout this whole exchange. As she looked him over, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride overwhelm her. She took in his maturing, self-confident disposition - how had he grown!

Lucien turned to look at her, his characteristic smirk never once leaving his features.

"Lieutenant Nel, the report."

"Ah yes," she saluted, resisting a chuckle.

"Agent Melt and Agent Lezard have left in preparation for the trip, stocking up on items and concocting new spells. Agent Vellion and Agent Dribe will be joining us on this journey with confident hearts, and Agent Ro-"

"Come on, Nel! Ya know I can be as good a captain as Lucien, maybe even better!" Roger interjected as he tugged at the end of the red head's skirt.

"Lemme be captain for this mission, please? And why does Lucien always get to decide what we're gonna do, huh? I'm Sir Roger, this party's true and dashing leader! Don't I get a say in anything?"

"Bah, you, leader? Don't make me laugh!" Lucien mocked, leering.

"I'm twice the man you'd ever be, plus I'm older!"

"What?! What does that haf'ta do with being a real man, Lucien?!"

"Er, I don't know, probably the part where one- grows up?!"

"Why you-!"

"Alright you two, break it up!"

Nel immediately placed herself between the two childhood rivals, forcing them apart before anything serious could really occur. As the two struggled for freedom and dominance, the female sighed and shook her had tersely. Perhaps she had gotten more than she'd ever bargained for when associating with these vivacious juveniles.

"Honestly, I thought you had more self-control than that, Lucien. Anyway, we'll see you and the rest at the entrance of the Passage from Parch to Plenty…" She sighed and turned to face the younger boy.

"As for you Roger, may I speak with you alone? I have some imperative issues I'd like to discuss."

Wide amber met narrowed emerald and Roger gulped audibly, not exactly taking any fancy towards this sudden turn of events. A thousand and one questions fleeted through his befuddled brain, many of which were centred on the thought of possible trouble or facing the wrath of his not-so-secret aficionada. The one thing he'd learnt from life was this: never entertain a female's wrath unless one wished to experience excruciating vengeance from said woman's blades of glory and justice.

"Y-Yes, m'am," the young boy stuttered, padding obediently after the Crimson Blade spy, glaring over his shoulder once in a while at his rival.

Oh how he longed to wipe that cocky grin off Lucien's face once and for all. He'd show him. One day.

Upon arriving at the small patch of grass in the middle of the village, Nel sat herself comfortably underneath the shade of a tree, patting the spot next to her as she beckoned Roger over. He wasted no time in scurrying over, doing his best to appear at ease but failing miserably.

"A-Am I in trouble or something…? You seem pretty upset, Nel."

Nel regarded him with an unreadable expression before reaching out to wrap an arm around the Menodix's shoulders, resting her cheek against the surface of his helmet. Roger blushed from Nel's rather uncharacteristic behaviour, not exactly comfortable with the close proximity but not disliking it either. He was about to question her actions but was halted in mid-thought when he heard the female exhale a grave sigh.

"No Roger, I'm not mad. It's just…"Nel trailed off, not sure how to go about explaining her situation to him.

Roger squirmed slightly in her grip; something was definitely not right. A stagnant pause punctuated the still afternoon air, the only sounds being the resounding flow of water and the chirping of crickets. Nel cleared her throat, deciding to address the matter from a different angle.

"Well, what makes you say that?"

"Nel, what's going on?" Roger began, thinking things through before regarding the Aquarian with a determined expression.

"You've been behaving awfully strange, since last week actually- it's not like you to be so…cold."

Now, this revelation greatly surprised Nel , so she chose to remain silent. Roger picked up from where he left off.

"Nel, ya kinda stopped laughing. When we're usually on our adventures, you'd always laugh and tease us and stuff. You'd always seem so relaxed and happy, one of us, but… I noticed that ya stopped."

Roger paused to pick at a blade of grass. Bringing it up to his lips, he blew gently against it, producing the faintest of whistles, before lowering his hand. He sighed, heart heavy.

"Oh, ya smile and join in our fun and games, our countless dares, but that's about it. Ya don't really seem so into it anymore and the guys and I… kinda feel that we're maybe… starting to bore you."

"Roger…"

Nel gazed down at the boy, remorse and disinclination shooting through her veins. This wasn't it, wasn't her reason at all, not by a long-shot. She only wished she could explain, relay to him the dire situation at hand, but was all the more unwilling. She didn't want him involved; she didn't want the boys involved, but she knew that keeping the truth from them had its consequences and more often than not, those consequences had their repercussions.

It seemed that Roger wasn't quite done with his comments, persisting on.

"And it's not just that! You've been distant, 'specially ta' me, what with ya' breathing down my neck and all. Whatever I do just doesn't seem to be good enough, but whatever the others do –especially Lucien- is always better than whatever I can accomplish! It's just that you have so much faith and trust in Melt and the others, but not me- why?"

Nel gathered the small child in her arms, hugging him close as she thought over her subsequent words. She patted his back in a silent lull, debating before finally giving into the inevitable.

"Roger, I have to tell you something and… I can't guarantee that you'd like what you're about to hear."

Roger shifted in her arms.

"I'm sure you're well aware of the dispute between Airyglyph and Aquaria, as well as their strained relationship. The countless of discussions, the idea of negotiation, were all long ago abandoned. This left us with little choice but to engage them in our own terms."

Roger blinked up at the red head in confusion. Did that mean…?

"Apparently, Airyglyph's been preparing their conquest over Aquaria for quite some time now, readying their fleet of men and beasts alike. Airyglyph's cavalry, the Storm Brigade, their heavy cavalry, the Black Brigade, and even the fearsome and ruthless Dragon Brigade… all units would be participating in this… international dispute."

"You mean- No, Nel, you don't mean…" Roger trailed off, disbelieving, but upon the older woman's silence, knew that he had little choice but to believe.

Nel nodded gravely.

"Yes, that's what it means, exactly. With such strong militia threatening the peace of Aquarian borders, under the command of her majesty, Aquarian troops have been dispatched as well to see to this war's end, with our side emerging victorious of course. I was issued the task of being Aquaria's eyes and ears in Glyphian territory; her majesty's official spy."

"But that's a risk barely anyone would wish to take upon themselves," Roger exclaimed, desperately trying to talk some sense into the hard-willed Aquarian.

"It's dangerous relaying information back and forth between the two regions! What if ya get caught? I'm pretty sure Airyglyphian terms are anything but lenient…"

In an instant, Roger was right up at her face. His brows furrowed and his long, bushy tail swished side to side in agitation.

"Nel, not to sound pessimistic but you may never make it back, unless…" Roger gasped when Nel nodded her head slowly in silent understanding.

"You can't be serious! Nel, you can't just throw away your life like that! It's suicide!"

"I'm not going to do that, Roger!" Nel shouted, surprising them both from her sudden outburst.

"I'm not…"

She bit her lip, eyebrows narrowing as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She diverted her gaze away from the prying eyes of vivacious amber.

"Do you think I don't regret this war, the suffering that would eventually follow? Would you rather we surrender to the enemy like lambs to a slaughter? I don't want to die as much as the next person, but it's not something I can ignore! I'm doing this for my people, her majesty, my subordinates, my friends, and especially for you children."

Every sentence Nel spoke carried with it distinct traces of mounting grief.

"You, all of you, have a future to look forward to and who am I to deprive you of such opportunities? Throwing my life away, that I may be doing, but throwing my life away for the cause of saving countless of others is in itself, something worth living for."

"But—" Roger cut in, but was silenced by a single finger placed on his lips.

Nel smiled one of those smiles, the kind that spoke of volumes and endless compassion which words itself couldn't seem to express. She hushed Roger gently.

"As for the answer to your next question, it's simple enough: I love you. I want the best in you Roger, along with the rest of your friends. I push you, push you harder and beyond your current abilities, but that's because I can see so much more potential hidden within you, more than you're letting on. I'm less hard on Melt and Lezard since there's clearly nothing left for me to educate them on. However, I've yet to see the true capability of your skills, Roger."

The young Menodix was about to refute such a claim, but was interrupted by the woman before him. Nel tuttered, tilted Roger's helmet back and gave his forehead a little poke.

"Your combat skills rival that of Lucien's, your decisive and out-going nature far surpasses that of any other, that I can assure you -I'm not comparing your healing capabilities to that of Melt's- but I'm still waiting. I want to see you truly grow, to gradually develop into a real man… Roger, do you know what really makes a man, a real man?"

When Roger shook his head in response to her question, Nel leaned her back against the trunk of the tree, bringing Roger along with her. They sat there completely at ease, enjoying each other's presence. She began her explanation.

"A real man isn't judged by his skills in combat, experience, clothes, background, age, or even his physique. A real man is not just a figurehead, or someone who constantly orders others around to do their bidding, having people or underlings at their beck and call. It's not the muscles or the constant need to prove oneself that makes one a real man, but the inner reality of your character, what you stand for."

"What I stand for…?" Roger echoed, not entirely comprehending.

"Yes, what you stand for," Nel repeated. She held up her fingers as she began to list the qualities.

"A real man would be willing to put aside his goals for the sake of aiding those in need, passing up temporary glory for eternal glory. A real man would always be true to his companions and to himself. A real man wouldn't run in the face of danger, but face it head on, despite the probable consequences which may follow."

She paused to look at him, a knowing smirk gracing her lovely lips. Her fell to a whisper, tender even, as spoke and etched her words straight into Roger's young heart.

"Not all battles can be won, but to conquer the fear of defeat and is in itself a battle already valiantly won. A real man is not considered weak to have feelings of care and concern towards others. In fact, these feelings would only make him stronger because he has someone to protect, someone worth fighting for to the bitter end. This is what makes a man a real man… Do you understand now, Roger?"

Roger paused, allowing his brain to process this newfound knowledge. Nel had passed on her wisdom to him, not the others, which made him feel sort of special. Her words made him realise Nel wouldn't be around to pick up after them anymore and like it or not, he admitted that there was some truth in Lucien's statement on 'growing up', but…

'A real man would always be true to his companions and to himself,' Nel had said, so changing now for the sake of it all would just be betraying his own moral upbringing. Besides, if Nel wanted him to change, she would have said so earlier. She liked him just the way he was; he liked him just the way he was.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks, Nel, and… I'm really gonna miss ya, and so would the others."

"As I you, Roger, as I you…"

Nel released Roger and rose, dusting herself off. They regarded each other for a moment, before the usual mischievous grin was back on the young boy's face. Roger crossed his arms as he nodded in the direction of the Passage from Parch to Plenty.

"We better hurry! The guys' ought to be there by now!" He turned to Nel and grinned from ear to ear.

"Ready for one last mission, Nel?"

Nel chuckled and saluted in a playful fashion.

"Lieutenant Nel reporting for duty, sir!"

Bittersweet… yeah, she could deal with that.

* * *

"Heh, took ya long enough," said Lucien, his hand positioned at the hilt of his sword.

The group of young humanoids turned to stare at the duo that was currently approaching the cave's entrance. Roger waved enthusiastically at his friends as he jogged over, being as loud and jubilant as ever, much to Lucien and Lezard's annoyance.

"Ah, Roger, it is nice to see that you have finally made it to partake in our latest challenge," Melt greeted his best friend, tone soothing and mysterious all the same. In his hands gripped his choice weapon: a broomstick.

Roger returned the greeting as Lezard began distributing the elixirs around.

"Melt and I have managed to compound only a small amount of Fruity Potions in our given time frame, so I strongly advise you guys to use them wisely."

Lezard pushed up his glasses before handing Roger his axe, expression smug.

"I've also created a few Mythril Stones and synthesized them with your weapons. This should give them the desirable increased attacking factor."

Nel folded her arms, wholly impressed. Lezard had indeed come a long way; he had really outdone himself this time. Offering Lezard a casual thanks in return, Roger accepted his newly beefed up weapon with great zeal, before making a mad dash towards the depths of the cavern. Dribe sighed and shook his head in exasperation. His friend ought to do something about his impulsive behaviour. If Roger wasn't careful, that very enthusiasm could eventually lead to undesirable outcomes in the future, that he was certain. It was never a good thing to throw caution and logical sense to the wind.

"Hey, Roger! Wait up!" he whined, charging in after him along with the others, laughter echoing throughout the caverns.

As Nel watched the scene unfold before her eyes, she couldn't help but put in her two fols worth of laughter as well. This was yet another reason to end this war because by the love of Apris, she was going to do all it took to end this senseless violence, to return home alive.

* * *

Upon entering the midnight caverns, Nel had split the party into two groups, commencing an entirely new challenge. This did nothing but leave the young boys tingling with excitement. She had termed it as a "Real Man" contest, a competition pitting individual strengths and proficiencies of each group against the other. The rules were simple enough: There was to be two teams and each team would appoint a leader, which in this case was Lucien for his team consisting of Lezard and Vellion, and Roger for his team consisting of Melt and Dribe. The teams would be given a challenge and they were to complete the task within the given time frame. There was to be no foul play otherwise that team would be disqualified and since it was a competition, the team that completed the given task first, wins. Nel had the role of being the two team's liaison, checking up on them once in a while to see if any required her assistance.

"Alright, boys, got the rules so far?" Nel clarified, crossing her arms. The children nodded their heads vigorously.

"Right, here's the challenge; listen carefully because I won't repeat myself: Deep within the caverns of the Passage from Parch to Plenty lies the beast known as the 'Dark Hunter', a human-like bird creature of great majesty. This bird rests at the hour of sunset. You have until that time to take a single tail feather and hand it to me. You may either wait until the bird is totally asleep or fight it head-on in means of obtaining that feather. But remember: you are competing for the position of 'winner', which means that you have to be fast or your efforts would be meaningless."

Lucien snorted and eyed Roger from the corner of his eye. This would seriously be too easy! He along with everyone else knew exactly how impatient the young Menodix was, what with his spontaneous mannerisms and inability to access the situation well enough before going in for the kill. To put it simply, Roger was the kind of guy who would follow his emotions before using his head. He on the other hand, had his brother and Vellion on his side –the thinkers- so he was mighty confident he could figure something out. He would not lose to Roger, sorry excuse of a man, and prove to everyone especially Nel, that he, Lucien, was the better man.

"'That's all? Hah, mere child's play!" Lucien snorted, drawing his sword. Lezard snickered along with him.

"This should prove simple enough," said Lezard, all confident.

"Everyone knows that the 'Dark Hunter' is a dangerous creature and definitely not one to be trifled with. Going against it in battle would be mere suicide, so the best option is to of course knock it out when it's drowsy from fatigue, and then claim the tail feather." He paused to smirk at the opposing team.

"Even Melt knows this, but with Roger as his captain and Dribe as a party member, they're doomed. Melt's too soft and would always hold Roger in high regard for reasons I fail to comprehend. It's safe to say that they'll follow his plan, which would consist of full-out assault. The probability of that is a good 93.78%."

Vellion watched his teammates criticize the others' shortcomings, twiddling his fingers. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about this whole competition. He was never the aggressive type; strong, yes, but he preferred engaging himself in intellectual pastimes than physical challenges like this. So, he wondered what exactly possessed him into agreeing to this in the first place… it was probably peer pressure.

"Aren't you going to make your move?" Nel questioned the three of them, as she indicated towards Roger's team who had already proceeded deep within the cave. Vellion shrugged.

"I don't know… Lucien told us to wait here and see what happens, so… we wait."

"You're giving up?"

Lucien shook his head, smirking. He inclined his head to regard the female Aquarian.

"Nah, just waiting for the right moment. We're not idiots and even you know that we can't defeat even one of those Dark Hunters. Lezard had this cave speculated way before the start of this competition and we already know the location of those creatures, so all we have ta do is wait a little closer to sunset. We've got this one in the bag!"

"And Roger?"

Lezard chuckled, haughty.

"Heh, that fool's probably thinking that if he gets to the feather first, he wins, but we're practical people; we do our best to avoid all possible means of a hassle."

Nel diverted her gaze down the path in the direction Roger, Dribe and Melt left in and couldn't help but feel gravely concerned. She had to give Lucien's team some credit; they had certainly come prepared and knew exactly what to do, planned every waking minute to claim their victory. Lezard's evaluation of the situation and of Roger's character couldn't have been more accurate, and that was what worried her.

* * *

"Hey, Roger, are ya sure you know where we're going?" Dribe called out in the darkness, his little ears twitching every now and then as he picked up the faintest traces of noise from the gaping abyss about them. Being humanoids, their senses were highly potent thus giving them an advantage over such situations. The lack of light didn't bother them much, not unless you were a little fox humanoid with a whiny and cowardly nature, also known as Dribe; the poor boy was utterly terrified of the dark.

"R-Roger?!"

"Aw, shut up ya moron," came said boy's impatient drawl.

"Real men aren't afraid of nothing, 'especially not the dark! So, quit being such a chicken and suck it in!"

Dribe pouted, glaring daggers at the back of Roger's head as the young one proceeded on, oblivious. Melt sighed and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it in assurance. He urged Dribe on.

"Dribe, Roger has a point you know? If you continue to speak so loudly, you may just attract unwanted company. The guys, Nel and us, aren't the only ones here as I'm sure you're well aware of. Remember, our plan was to be as silent as possible, so we can sneak up on the beast and obtain the feather without any unnecessary disturbances."

Dribe groaned and slumped over, ears flattening against his skull in defeat.

"Yeah, yeah, I know… sorry."

The trio trudged on, fending off nocturnal species and dodging falling boulders, until they chanced upon a split road. There, they halted, pondering over their next move. Were they to go through the straight and narrow left, or the wide and winding right?

"So, what do ya think, Melt? Which way?" Roger asked as he turned to face his best friend, arms crossed behind his head in a casual stance.

The wise one pondered; he closed his eyes, meditating, foreseeing, sensing, and feeling. He opened them once more. With the aid of his broomstick, he indicated towards the right.

"Down the winding corridor of darkness lie treacherous obstacles ahead, paved with peril and smoothened with rough. Amidst the shadows, there dwells the sacred beast, guarded and safe out of harm's reach."

He pointed to the path on the left.

"Deep within the seemingly uneventful tunnel rests the creature of darkness and despair, blithe and ultimately unaware. If it is instant glory which you seek, then follow this path of the straight and narrow to reach its peak."

"Hmm…" Roger hummed, contemplating.

This was an ultimately difficult decision to make, not to mention wholly oxymoronic. Who'd ever heard of obtaining 'instant glory' from merely doing the right thing by going down the 'path of the straight and narrow'? Nothing could ever be 'instant' in this world, even if one did a thousand and one good deeds in their lifetime. In addition, Melt said 'seemingly uneventful' which meant that the journey ahead would probably be indistinct. Who knew what sorts of dangers lay ahead? At least a clearer picture was depicted by the pathway on the right.

Roger nodded his head, affirmative; it was decided.

"We're going to the one on the right."

"_WHAT?!"_

All eyes turned to regard the startled Foxtail, brows quirked in a questionable fashion. Roger and Melt remained silent, awaiting the ever-familiar complaints from their heroically-challenged companion. Dribe grasped the material of his shirt, tight, and toed the ground; his stance faltered.

"Are ya crazy?! Didn't you hear what Melt said?! He said 'treacherous obstacles'… no, I'm not going. You two can handle this one by yourselves. I'm outta' here!"

"For crying out loud, Dribe, where's your sense of adventure?!" Roger cut in, making a grab for Dribe's shoulder, tugging the older boy back.

"Look, all we have ta do is get that feather and we're as good as gone. Melt said there'd be a few roughs ahead, but at least we know what ta expect right? If we go the other way, who knows what sort of things await us! Besides, we're real men and we have each other, so quit being a chicken!"

Roger punched Dribe playfully in the arm.

"Don't worry Dribe, I got ya back!"

Dribe couldn't help but smile at that. Up until this very moment, Roger hadn't given up on him and continued to urge him on, giving him a hundred and ten percent of his unrelenting support. It never ceased to amaze him that the boy hadn't lost patience with him and just throw him aside. No, Roger wasn't like that at all. He never realized how fortunate it was for him to have such a loyal comrade.

"Oh, alright," he gave in, "But if I don't like it, we're leaving ya hear?"

Melt smiled as Roger laughed and waved him off.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever- now hurry up would ya? You guys are such slow pokes!"

With their weapons at ready, the party of three experienced no problems in challenging the cavern's deathly booby-traps of natural adversities. Apart from a few accomplished young mages who dwelled deep within the caverns, the rest of their adversaries had been mainly small fry. Rounds of spell-casting, slaying, and trouncing, found the trio in the middle of the Dark Hunters' nesting grounds. Roger, Melt and Dribe stood stark rigid, daring not to so much as breathe within the stifling confines of this monster-inhibited territory.

Great tufts of dully-tinted feathers rose and fell as the creatures slept on, oblivious to the arrival of the three newcomers. Melt and Dribe wasted no time in shoving their leader forward, directly towards the biggest nest of this empire. It was undoubtedly alpha male quarters. Roger held back a startled cry as he whirled around to glare at his so-called friends. That only earned him wide grins and enthusiastic waves on their part.

"Fear not, Roger," whispered Melt.

"Yeah, we're right behind you," added Dribe.

Roger pouted when he distinctively spied them backing away ever so discretely. He rolled his eyes and pushed forward.

'Thanks a lot you guys,' he thought sarcastically.

Manoeuvring his way through the sea of feathers, Roger ignored the lesser members of the clan and instead, set his sights on the slumbering ruler. Upon realizing what the younger male was up to, Melt's eyes widened, immediately stepping forward.

"Roger, what in the world are you doing?!" he hissed.

"Just pick the tail feather from one of these closer to the cave's exit! That way, it'll be easier for us to make a run for it if they awaken. Haven't we already discussed this?"

"Relax, Melt," Roger brushed him off, leaning over the nest's edge as he reached for the Dark Hunter's tail.

"I'll just pluck a feather and we'll be out of here before this dumb bird knows what hit him. Plus, I wanna beat Lucien! This dumb bird's the king of the lot so its feather is probably bigger and better than the rest!"

"R-Roger, maybe you shouldn't…"

"Watcha' talking about, Dribe? Of course I should! I'm not gonna let mister high-and-mighty win this one, not in a long shot!"

Roger plucked a feather and pocketed it, blissfully unaware of the shifting mass of feathers behind him.

'Hah! Take that, Lucien!' he thought smugly to himself.

"R-R-Roger…?!"

"What now, Dribe?"

"B-B-B-B-… B-B-B-Be-…"

Roger frowned, twitching his ears.

"Sorry, pal, but ya gotta speak louder than that. I can't hear a thing you're say-"

"Thunder Flare!"

Before the great beast could strike, static electricity crackled from the ends of Melt's broomstick, before shooting forward to engulf its target. Roger gasped and leapt off his perch, getting into a fighting stance alongside Dribe who had already drawn his sword. Melt raised his broomstick high above his head; alluring blue spectrums of light danced around him as the winds picked up.

"Now, feast on roaring thunder!"

The Dark Hunter screeched in agony as wave after wave of electric pulses surged through its being. Soon, the spell had begun to wear off, dissipating and reducing the poor creature to a motionless mass of feathers, twitching muscles, ruptured bones.

"Thanks for the back up, Melt," said Roger. "I owe you one."

"No thanks needed, my friend," came Melt's hushed reply, as he panted slightly, regaining his strength. "However, that was the least of our worries. We best get going before-"

"Guys, I hate to be a party-pooper, but I think we have a problem…"

Fury-induced screeches pervaded the air, reverberating throughout the still silence of the monster's lair. Nests rustled, wings and feathers beat, and piercing orbs of vermilion shot open as the entire tribe of vicious human-bird hybrids roused from their slumber. With an effortless beat of their wings, they took flight, circling the three foreign entities, disapproving. Roger, Dribe and Melt got into their defensive positions, back to back.

"Great going, Roger; now you've gone and made them mad," Dribe hissed, glaring daggers at his leader.

"Shut up, Dribe! Now's not the time to be pointing fingers at each other! We can worry about faults later; right now, we've gotta take care of these pests!"

"Right!"

Roger ghosted the tips of his fingers over his blade's edge.

"Fiery Axe," he whispered, feeling his skin prickle with the barest of heat. The blade of his axe began to glow an angry red with traces of hot stream emitting from it. He raised it above his head and cried out his attack, lunging forward.

"I'm gonna cut ya down!"

There was a loud explosion, sending shockwaves throughout the premises, loosening rocky structures and sending a small group of Dark Hunters crashing head first into the ground. Before they could recover from the attack, Dribe charged forward, plunging his sword deep into the ground, and twisting it like a key.

"Earthly Ripple!"

The floor split open, the crack stretching, growing in length as the rocks and soil parted, and leaving a gaping hellhole in its wake. The creatures shrieked, caught unaware and unable to retaliate as they plummeted into the seemingly endless pit-fall.

Enraged by the sight of their entourage getting slaughtered by numbers, the remaining monsters called for reinforcements, throwing their heads back and singing for all they were worth. More screeching followed after that, echoing, seemingly doubled. The winds in the cave picked up once more, twice as more powerful as dust and debris rose in clouds, temporarily blinding the young heroes. The boys coughed and gasped, rubbing at their eyes and fighting to reclaim the amount of oxygen they had lost in that split second.

"This is bad, guys," spoke Roger, quickly accessing the situation.

They were out-numbered by about a hundred to three; no matter how they looked at it, the chances of them coming out of this battle unscathed were about close to nothing. They didn't need luck in such hectic circumstances. They needed a miracle.

"Ya think?!" Dribe bit out, fending off an oncoming monster by striking it on the cranium.

"Argh, it's no use! They just keep on coming!"

"If you can hear this voice from the depths of the underworld, then come. Come forth and aid your master!" Melt thrust his broomstick outwards, eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused on his summon.

"I release you from your fiery prison! Rise, rise, rise! I summon you, Efreet!"

The flaming warrior materialized before their eyes, leaping into the air and bringing down its blade of fiery inferno onto its unsuspecting victims. Melt's attack managed to knock them out momentarily, but it was far from enough. With the party of three split up and currently preoccupied with defending their own territories, no one was left to accommodate for the position of defence. Melt's summon left him wide open for attack, and attack the enemy did, charging forwards and smashing the young boy's skull hard against rocky, jagged walls.

"Gah!" Melt gasped, having the wind knocked out of him from the sudden and brutal force. The amount of spell-casting and summons finally took its toll on him and he slowly slid down the wall, unconscious.

"Melt!"

Distracted, Roger failed to sense the looming presence behind him until it was too late. Something clawed harshly at his back, ripping fabric and tender skin, the blood coming out in rivulets as it slowly began to stain the material of his deep green shirt. Another one of the monsters had managed to knock his axe out of his grasp, sending it flying towards the other end of the battleground. Soon, Roger found himself being shoved backwards, crying out as his wounds made contact with the uneven stone flooring beneath, digging rocks. Dribe had been pinned down and Dark Hunters were advancing on the unconscious Melt. In his current futile position, Roger did the only thing he was capable of: he screamed.

* * *

"Hey, did you hear something?"

"Hear what?"

Lucien's ears twitched once more, confirming his suspicions. His eyes widened. It couldn't be… that little brat couldn't be in danger, could he? He wouldn't permit himself to believe so, but there was no doubt that that pained cry came from none other than Roger. His hand travelled to the hilt of his sword. He had a bad feeling about this.

Lezard was growing impatient.

"Lucien, what in the world's up with you?"

"He's in trouble."

"I beg your pardon?"

Lucien ignored his brother and turned to face Nel, who only nodded in response. Soon, she was off, dashing towards the path Roger and his group took with Lucien following closely behind. Vellion and Lezard looked at each other, confused expressions donning their features as they shrugged.

"L-Lezard, I don't like this… What's going on?"

Lezard frowned, eyes narrowing.

"It looks like we have little choice but to see for ourselves."

The duo took off and it didn't take them long to catch up to the others. Lezard turned to glare irritably at his brother.

"Lucien, you better tell me what's going on this instant or so help me, I'll-"

His words were cut off when they arrived at the battle ground. The party of four gazed out in horrific silence as they took in the scene before them. The blood of humanoid children was splayed over the ground, dying the soil and rocky walls a shade of crimson bloom. In the far corner of the area crouched Dribe and Roger, shielding their fallen comrade from the entities that surrounded them. Melt was unconscious, Dribe was beyond exhausted, and Roger struggled to maintain consciousness but it wasn't easy. The blood that covered the land was his, the cuts he never bothered to conceal were his, and the crimson essence which mingled with beads of perspiration were representatives of his inner turmoil and anguish.

"Melt!" Lezard cried, throwing caution to the wind as he raced forward upon the sight of his battered friend, trickles of red slowly making their way down the side of his face. Nel, Lucien and Vellion weren't far behind.

"Roger, what happened here?!" Nel demanded, watching with a hard expression on her face as Roger struggled to form a decent sentence.

"I-I-… that is- well-"

"Guys, we got company!" Lucien drew his blade and shouted over his shoulder. Nel immediately ran to his side and shoved him backwards, hard and resolute.

"Never mind, Roger, just forget it! And Lucien, now's not the time to play hero! You can't handle these things!"

No one said anything. Nel drew her daggers.

"Roger, heal Melt."

"But I-"

"For the love of Apris, Roger, just do it!"

Roger turned to stare at the motionless figure that was his best friend and grimaced. The sides of the boy's face were caked with blood and his breathing was growing shallower as every second ticked by; there wasn't much time. Roger raised his arm but did nothing more - no magical glow, no swirling lights and mysterious spectrums, only the mere action itself. Nothing. The poor boy just froze there, rigid as a board. Although he willed and screamed bloody murder for something, anything to happen, his body failed to process the given information, scared stiff from the sight of his friend dying before his very eyes.

"Roger!"

"What are ya waiting for, Roger?!"

"Roger, snap out of it!"

"Roger!"

"Shove over, you pathetic numskull!"

Lezard pushed Roger forcefully aside, not caring if he had aggravated any one of said boy's appendages. Melt was in a critical stage and he wasn't going to let him die, not if he had a say in it! He dug into his robe pocket and fished out a thin vial of purple liquid, popped the cork and shoved its contents down Melt's throat, forcing him to swallow. It was a potion he had been trying to perfect for quite some time now. It was still in the works, but now wasn't the time to worry about possible setbacks. This was an emergency.

"Wha-what did ya give him, Lezard?" Dribe whispered, noticing the potion take effect. The pained expression on Melt's face was now gone, replaced with that of peace and serenity.

"Verdurous Potion: A potion that's supposed to have a 100% healing effect on its user, but since I've yet to perfect it, it only has a 40% healing effect. Nevertheless, it should be good enough."

"Will he be ok?" Vellion asked, fearing the worst.

Lezard lowered his gaze, brushing aside the deep chocolate bangs, which shielded Melt's eyes. He sighed heavily.

"I hope so, Vellion. I hope so…"

Roger couldn't bear the sight much longer and willed himself to look away. He bit his lip, drawing blood.

What was this feeling? He felt so useless, so implausibly pathetic. Where had he been when Melt needed him most? Oh right, standing there like an idiot, watching him die slowly. It had been his chance to prove himself, to show Nel and the others the real man he was, prove to them that he was as capable as the others, but he was wrong. He proved nothing; he saw nothing, nothing in himself that was worth complimenting. He blew his chance, he forfeited that trust, and crushed his chances of ever being recognized as something more than a loud show-off, and possibly ripped apart the declaration of friendship with the first ever person who liked him for who he was.

Nel stood guard before the crouched children, getting into a defensive stance as she called forth their attention. The enemy was closing in. She had to deal with this problem before they all died here in this damned cave.

"Lucien!"

"Yes, m'am?"

"You go on first and clear a path for the rest. Get Dribe to help you. Lezard and Vellion?"

"Right here, m'am."

"Take Melt and follow a little ways behind Lucien and Dribe. You best get Melt to a doctor quick! Roger, you bring up the rear."

"But-" His protest fell on deaf ears when Nel did nothing but lunge at the Dark Hunters, calling out her "Shock Wave" attack as she battled them with the grace and dexterity that would make any fighter jealous.

"That was an order, boy, not a suggestion!"

Nel's words stung, painfully. She had never called him 'boy' before, much less talked down to him, and that hurt more than any insults Lucien or Lezard could ever come up with. Nel had said she trusted him, saw more in him, believed in him, but in that split second of hesitation, Roger knew that he had thrown it all away. He knew no one could ever trust him now, depend on him anymore, and the fact that Nel was included in this cold circle only enforced deeper dejection in his heart. With a bow, he turned his back to his brave Lieutenant and did as he was instructed. He brought up the rear end.

* * *

"How is he, Vellion?"

The stubbly boy shook his head slowly, shoulders slumped over from fatigue.

"Not too good, Lucien… Melt's condition has pretty much stabilized, but he's not waking up. Lezard's still in there; said he'd be staying a little longer."

"Grr, this is all ya' fault you moron!" Lucien shouted and jabbed an accusing finger in Roger's general direction.

The youngest of the group said nothing, refusing to meet his rival in the eye. Lucien didn't have to rub it in. He was already well aware of the gravity of the situation and the fault that lay undeniably in him. However, no matter how hard he tried, or how long he waited, the tears never came; it was like he was unable to cry, to feel the slightest bit of remorse for his friend who had walked along the lines of death but an hour ago.

Although Roger said nothing against Lucien's accusation, Dribe wouldn't have it. The little fox-boy jumped to his friend's aid, inserting himself between the two rivals.

"Lucien, give it a rest would ya? Quit lecturing Roger! I'm sure he already feels as bad as it is. Besides, he already said he was sorry, so let's just put this matter aside-"

"What, do you have rocks for brains or something?!" Lucien interrupted harshly.

"You saw what happened back there! That idiot just stood there when he had the ability to actually change Melt's fate! So who's the bigger coward, you or him?!"

"That's not fair, Lucien! Roger probably froze from shock! That's what usually happens when someone you care about gets hurt!" Dribe defended.

"Then what would you make of my brother's actions?! You know how close those two are, but I don't see Lezard freezing from shock! What if Melt had been any one of us instead?!"

"But-" Lucien held up his hand, not wishing to hear anymore.

"Look Dribe, if ya wish ta continue defending the fool then be my guest, but leave me, Lezard and Vellion out of it. I have no idea what Melt feels, but if ya want to remain on Roger's side, then so be it, 'cuz neither the three of us want any part of this… friendship any longer."

Lucien's proclamation seemed to have gotten Roger's attention. The young boy's head shot up to stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Were his ears deceiving him?

"Wha-what…?" Roger whispered fearfully, confused. "Lucien… I thought we were friends."

"We _were_ friends, but can I seriously trust someone who doesn't even trust himself? The point is, Roger, ya had the power to _save_ someone's life, but ya simply chose not ta. No form of excuse can change that!"

"Lucien…"

The older boy held up a hand to silence him.

"Look Roger, I'm gonna make this transparently clear to you: I won't forgive anyone who hurts my friends."

Roger felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

'But aren't I your friend too?' he thought to himself miserably.

He didn't even bother to hide his tears (which he was sure were falling freely down his cheeks), much less deny Lucien's words. His words had some truth in them, and he was beginning to see the outcome of Lucien's growth. Perhaps Lucien really was the better man.

"Goodbye, Roger."

With a final bid of farewell, Lucien and Vellion brushed past him, retiring to their homes for the night, leaving Roger and Dribe to figure out the sudden turn of events and where that left them. The boys' ears perked up when they picked out the sound of approaching footsteps. The sounds ceased and before them stood Nel, arms crossed and expression unreadable. She met Roger's gaze with unwavering determination and Roger couldn't help but shrink from her stare, wholly intimidated and apprehensive.

Sensing the oppressively strained atmosphere, Dribe decided to leave the two alone to sort whatever issues they had, out.

"Hey, erm, I'm gonna go check on Melt so- see ya!" He made a break for Melt's house.

Once Dribe was out of ear-shot, Nel turned her back to Roger and spoke, her voice even and commanding.

"Follow me, Roger. We need to talk."

Not needing to be told twice, Roger shuffled obediently after her, eyes not daring to look up and never so much as uttering a single word.

* * *

Day had steadily crept into night. Stars painted across Elysian Field's canvas, its constellations mapping out the inevitable metamorphosis, the vicissitude of being. The sounds of daytime fell gravely still, from a nauseating crawl to a stop altogether. Wherever the wind went, the coverlet of muted twilight followed, slowly slipping into night, spurred on by the gripping forces of the strange and unorthodox; an unseen and unidentifiable power manipulating the course of its chronological tide.

Something nudged at Roger's consciousness, nagging at him that he was due for dinner back home, but strangely found himself unable to abide to his stomach's request. Furious or not, today was Nel's last time in the village and possibly in their lives and he'd much like to spend his time accompanying her last few hours here. She meant at least that much to him. When Nel had led him back to the spot where they had conversed earlier in the afternoon, Roger couldn't say that he wasn't in the least bit surprised. This spot was his favourite place in all Surferio as well as Nel's. Once seated, Nel wasted no time in getting to her point.

"Roger, about what I said earlier… I apologize for my curtness."

"It's alright-"

"No, it's not," Nel interjected. She brought her knees up to her chest and sighed loudly.

"I was scared. I never meant for you children to get hurt, especially you, Roger."

"Me?" Roger exclaimed, stunned. "Isn't Melt the one that's critical?"

"That's not what I meant, Roger, and you know it. You were affected by today's events, and unlike Melt's – she indicated the direction Lucien left in - your wounds won't be able to heal as easily."

She reached out to wipe away Roger's tears with tenderness akin to a mother's care.

"Am I right to say so, Roger?"

Roger fell silent. Really, what was he supposed to say? Nel had pretty much summarized his feelings up to this point already. She wasn't disappointed in him, nor did she approve of Lucien's treatment towards him, but her words did little to compensate for the despair that was slowly clouding his mind. Roger still felt guilty, doubted himself, and blamed himself for the cruelties of the day's happenings. Nel pursed her lips in apprehension and decided to approach things from a different angle.

"Roger, are you familiar with someone by the name of Albel Nox? You… remind me a lot of him."

"Albel Nox? Who's that, a friend of yours?" Roger asked with wide, innocent eyes, curious.

Nel made a face and shook her head vehemently.

"Hardly—He's the captain of the Black Brigade, one of Airyglyph's three military branches and the best swordsman in the country. Renown for his cruelyty and proficiency in one-on-one combat, he's also known as Albel the Wicked."

"And you're comparing me to _him?!_" Roger exclaimed, aghast. Nel held up her hands in defence.

"No, no, Roger, I didn't mean it like that at all!"

Nel chuckled as she inclined her head to gaze at the shimmering night-time sky. One could see the stars more clearly in Surferio than in Aquaria.

"I think you'd understand better once you hear that man's life story… would you care to?"

When Roger snuggled up closer against her, Nel took it as her cue to begin.

"Albel Nox is the son of Lord Glou Nox, one of Airyglyph military's past leaders. He was greatly respected and definitely someone not to be trifled with, so it came to be quite a grievance when he died from the claws of a dragon. It all began with the '_Accession of the Flame_' ceremony, a procession to make partnership with a dragon, as per custom in their nation.

"Unfortunately, failure held Albel in high regard that day; the dragon rejected him. Glou Nox had saved his son from death, but at the cost of his own life. As a result, Albel managed to survive, but his left arm was severely burnt, but look where he is now- Captain of the malicious Black Brigade."

"Nel…?"

Nel smiled and patted Roger on the back. She could more or less sense his confusion.

"What I'm trying to say is, there would always be an event in a person's life that would make them stronger - to mature, to grow. Sometimes losing something important might just be the key to unlock that hidden potential. So there's no point sitting here and moping about the past. You should concentrate on what you can do here and now." Then an irritated look crossed her face. "Although he _is_ the enemy..."

The two spared each other a glance, before burting into tiny fits of laughter. Sometime passed and Nel spared a glance at Melt's house, before swiftly rising to her feet. She dusted her skirt off with Roger all the while watching her with concern, trepidation and outmost longing. He never counted himself as someone into politics or religion or anything, but just this once, he cared about the war and prayed for Nel's safety and eventual return. He wanted things to go back to the way they were and always _should_ be, to believe that everything was going to be all right. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he could hope, couldn't he?

"Well, my time's up. I best be off," Nel interrupted his train of thought in her usual business-like tone.

"Say goodbye to the guys for me."

Roger nodded, but just when the red haired was about to take her leave, he remembered something - something he had been dying to say since he heard the dreadful news leave the red haired Aquarian's lips.

"Nel, wait!"

Said woman paused, her stride faltering.

"Y-you must survive!" Roger shouted, his little glove-encased fists balled at his sides. "You must win this war! You-you...you come home."

At the resolute tone of the boy's words, a sad smile graced the woman's lips.

"No promises."

What else could she say to a 12-year-old child without breaking his spirit?

However, if Nel had turned around instead of walking away, she would have seen the pathetic droop of the Menodix's ears and realise how much more she hurt Roger through the coldness of her empty words.

* * *

Roger knocked hesitantly on the door to Melt's house, scared and uncertain. He had no idea whether Melt knew about the events in the cave after he had lost consciousness, but considering that Lezard had stayed with him all this time, he wouldn't be surprised if he knew.

Would Melt forgive him, defend his honor and remain his friend, if not his best friend? Or filter to Lucien's side, the side which would eventually continue to mock his existence?

Roger sighed. His head hurt from simply thinking too much.

"Come in," came Melt's quiet beckoning from within.

Roger sucked in a breath. It was now or never.

He grabbed the knob, bracing himself before pushing the wooden barrier open. A nervous smile spread itself across his lips as he refused to meet his friend in the eyes.

"Hey Melt, how's it going?"

The wolf-boy smiled gratefully at Roger's concern and slowly sat up with the aid of said boy, of course. Roger supported Melt's back and used his other hand to fluff up the pillow against the headboard, before laying him carefully against it. He pulled the covers over and up to Melt's stomach, making sure that the boy was comfortable before seating himself comfortably on the mattress as well. Melt smiled in thanks and Roger returned it, if not a tad bit shyly.

"Good," Melt replied. "Lezard's potion worked like a charm, although he told me to stay in bed for at least a day longer until I fully recuperate…"

Melt trailed off when he realized that his friend wasn't listening, and instead seemed to be incredibly fascinated with the fabric of his blanket, twisting and clutching the material every now and then. He frowned slightly, knowing the reason behind Roger's apparent awkwardness.

"I know all about the events which ensued within the cave, Roger."

Melt knew he hit home when he spied Roger stiffen visibly, before releasing his hold on the blanket, only to reach into his pocket to pull out a bag of Palmira flowers and some thread. He began to thread the blossoms through, never once saying anything. Melt eyed his actions suspiciously. Palmira flowers… was there something Roger desired? Melt simply let him be and continued.

"Lezard told me… and I wanted to tell you that I'm not mad."

Roger paused and regarded Melt with a look of incredulity, disbelieving.

'Is he saying this 'cuz he means it, or just to be kind?' Roger thought to himself, not knowing what to believe now.

"And if you're thinking that I'm saying this just because it was the polite thing to do, then you're clearly a trillion light years away. I think I can understand how you feel, Roger. I know it's not exactly easy to bear the sight of a close friend struggling for survival-"

"That's not it!" Roger yelled all of a sudden, throwing the garland carelessly on the bed.

"I couldn't save ya! I couldn't even move! I didn't just let ya down, Melt, but the others too! Now, Lucien, Lezard and Vellion want nothing more ta do with me thanks ta my blunder!" He slammed his fists on the cushiony mattress, sobbing bitterly.

"In a single day, I lost not just my pride, but my friends too! And worst still, I nearly lost ya, Melt! Thankfully, Dribe's still around, but the guys… I won't even blame ya if ya decide to leave. Melt, you're my best friend in the whole world, and I let ya down."

"Roger," Melt whispered gently. He handed Roger a handkerchief, watching as he blew into it.

"Like I said, I'm not mad at you, and because we're best friends, I don't plan on leaving your side anytime soon. Aren't you forgetting you were the first person who dared to strike up a conversation with me, despite how ludicrous it was?"

Roger smiled slightly from that memory. His enthusiasm on making friends almost startled the strange wolf-boy back then when they were younger.

"In addition to that, best friends don't expect anything from each other, apart from trust. You trusted me enough to socialize with me, offer me companionship in the past, so shouldn't I trust your words too?"

Roger smiled behind the cover of the handkerchief, a new wave of tears brimming in his eyes. Melt understood, believed in him, trusted him, and that was all that mattered.

"Thanks Melt, you're the best."

Melt laughed, before indicating towards the unfinished garland of flowers on his bedspread. His face was laced with inquisitive amusement.

"Care to enlighten me on what you're doing?"

"Oh, this?" Roger rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm trying my hand at making the Palmira Wishing Charm! My mom taught me. They say that if ya succeed in tying together a thousand flowers without breaking the thread, the moon goddess Palmira would grant your wish. I'm hoping for Nel's safe return…"

At the older boy's confused stare, Roger immediately divulged the secret of Nel's new role and mission, immensely relieved to get it off his chest and talk to someone about it. Of course, he trusted Melt with this secret. He believed his friend had enough foresight and maturity to comprehend the severity of such news. However, it still miffed him that the older boy could be so calm and complacent about it.

"Nel's a grown woman, Roger. I'm sure she can take care of herself."

Roger made a noise and stuck out his tongue. Childish, he knew, but this was Melt so what the heck.

"Oh, I know! But that doesn't change the fact that I wanna see her again! Why can't everyone just get along? Airyglyph and Aquaria have always lived with each other because they need each other."

Roger crossed his arms and gave a loud, frustrated huff.

"Why can't those dumb-dumb's see that? What would it take to _make_ them see that?"

Roger pouted as Melt merely laughed. But his laughter soon faded when he was met with the sight of the younger one's despondent face. With gentle eyes that contained the wisdom of sages, he conveyed his empathy and placed a comforting hand on Roger's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.

"You need not fret, my friend."

Roger sniffed and rubbed his nose.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

Melt turned to stare out the window at the nighttime coverlet of darkness and shimmering stars. Roger followed his gaze and was momentarily astounded by the alluring majesty of heaven's crown, so much so that he almost failed to catch what his friend whispered in the quiet privacy of the room.

"… the stars say so."

"Huh?" Roger whispered.

Melt simply smiled his trademark mysterious smile.

"The stars," he repeated. "They speak. They tell of strange, marvellous things yet to come."

"Really?" Roger piped in, interested, tail swishing from side to side. "How so?"

"Wait and see Roger, wait and see…"

"And how'd you know all this, Melt?"

Melt's eyes twinkled with mirth, those intense golden irises swirling with perceptive wisdom.

"You can learn a great number of things from the stars, Roger. After all, the universe is a phenomenal entity. Who knows? Perhaps now is not the time to worry yet…"

* * *

**Author's note:**

Aaaannndddd... that's my attempt in showing how the Surferio kids' group eventually split into two. Seriously, I'm in love with these kids and I really wanted to give them a more developed background story. Roger is one of my favourite characters and I wanted to dedicate something to him. There's not enough of this adorable Menodix online. Also, I included a little of Albel's background story too. He definitely fascinates me.

Some of you may be alarmed by Nel's caring nature. Don't worry, things will definitely change (or go back to normal if you're referring to the gameverse) after this chapter. Just wanted to show a contrast between her character before and after the war. I figured her caring nature in the game (beneath that cool, aloof, no-nonsense attitude) must have stemmed from somewhere. Besides, war changes people and hardens them. I figured her "normal" personality would be due to the hardened effects from the traumas of war.

Read and review please! They rock my world and they produce updates!


	2. Love's Not My Game

**Author's note:**

I'm back (that was fast) with a new chapter. This time, it follows Fayt and shows the other side of the galaxy.

I probably won't be jumping back and forth as frequently, but for now, just bear with me.

Currently, I'm in the middle of my exams, but I couldn't resist submitting an update because I'm that much in love with this series and I want to share my love with you guys. You'll spot some interesting pairings and references in this chapter, along with a alternate spin on certain events, as usual. One particular pairing is dedicated to my ex co-author taito-fan. I'm crediting her because I used a little of her old ideas in the old chapter 2. This one is very different, so I hope you'd all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

**The Stars Told Me So**

**by Dark Interval**

**Chapter 2: Love's Not My Game**

* * *

_User ID: Fayt Leingod_

_Character: Sword Master Adonis Klein_

_User Level: AAA_

_Recorded Time of Death: 41:02:13_

_System Level: 99 – Seven Pillars of Hell_

_Would you like to resume play from your last save point or proceed to load supplementary data from external pre-existing files?_

"Well, they always say 'third time's the charm'! Right, computer?"

… _Affirmative. [User ID: Fayt Leingod] to resume play from the last save point. Resetting parameters. Commencing boss fight._

A broad long-sword was swung confidently, its wielder testing its strength and feel. The young blue-haired knight stood before towering gates of hell as they parted to reveal a blazing inferno and a monstrous daemon hovering at its center. A bead of sweat tricked down the side of the young knight's face; a sure grin spread across his lips; his grip on the weapon tightened.

"Come on, come on, come on! LET ME HIT LEVEL 100 BEFORE LUNCH - !"

"_FAYT ROBERT LEINGOD!"_

The blue haired knight froze in mid-strike; the game fizzed before fading out entirely to reveal the black-blue inner walls of the household game simulator. Suddenly a whole new sense of terror gripped him.

That voice.

That _naggy_ voice.

He knew it all too well.

"O-Oh… Sophia!"

Said female was standing at the entrance of the game simulator, the door wide open. Light flooded into the room, momentarily blinding Fayt when he looked up, hissing. The intensity of Sophia's glare was murderous; she had her hands on her hips; her foot tapped impatiently.

"'_Oh, Sophia?!'_ And you're playing games _again?_ Where's your brain, Fayt?"

"You _killed_ it! Killed it, you heartless wrench! Trampled and mingled it with my 41 hours of blood, sweat and tears! Now my heart will never know the glory of maximum level! My soul will _never _be reconciled!" was what an emotionally distraught Fayt had wanted to say, but in order to avert the probable wrath and tears from a 24/7 PMS-y childhood friend and the subsequent, tiresome string of admonishments from his parents for causing such a reaction, the 19-year-old Earthling decided to adopt a more diplomatic approach: **Emotional appeal.**

"I'm sorry, Sophia. It's just… I just wanted to finish this game before our trip to Hyda so I could spend more time with you."

His inner voice called bullshit.

Hyda IV was the fourth planet of the Kappa Sector's Hyda System and had an atmospheric composition similar to that of Earth. An axial tilt of 34.6°, a surface gravity of 0.9 G, and orbiting at 1.4 Aus away from its star, its equatorial regions of mild temperatures and low humidity made it a choice location for health resorts. His parents had made plans before the holidays rolled in, to get a little R&R on Hyda's beaches and get away from the stress of work. Granted, Fayt himself could use a break from University, but he didn't see the point of traveling far across the cosmos just for _that._ I mean that's what games were for… _right?_

Sophia gave him a suspicious frown.

Fayt decided to finish his oh-so-earnest explanation off with a bashful smile, complete with a sheepish rub of his neck. When he noticed Sophia's stare and stance falter, he couldn't help but applaud himself inwardly. 19 years and he still had it. Now if only that worked for his teachers… and his grades…

"Ohhh… Fayt, you're the most – the most - !"Sophia sighed and slumped forward in exasperation. "Just forget it. You know I can't stay mad at you. But you know, if you keep playing games all the time, you'll turn into a brainless muscleman."

Fayt offered her a slight smile and decided to ignore that last comment, but curiosity soon got the better of him. His game-loving mind drew the conclusion that there _had_ to be a reason for the girl to interrupt his ascent to victory. And high score. And top ranking on Earth. And top 20 in the entire Sol System.

"So what's up?" he asked.

The brunette straightened up and flashed him a cheeky grin, her eyes narrowing in a leer.

"Oh, nothing… Just came to tell you the shuttle's going to be here in an hour," she said innocently. "You know, the one that's taking us to Hyda IV?"

When all Fayt did was blink at her stupidly, she giggled and jogged out, calling over her shoulder.

"Hope you're all packed!"

The minute the battle simulator doors slid shut, all hell broke lose.

"_Shiiiiitttt!"_

Fayt didn't even bother to shut down the system properly before making a mad dash to the transporter that linked the living area to his bedroom. He spied his parents' and the unmistakable pink, kitty paw-print luggage of Sophia's placed by the house's doorway… all except his.

There was one simple explanation why: he _hadn't_ packed yet.

'God damn it! Can't this thing be _any_ slower!?'

Once out, he burst into his hurricane-strewn room, occasionally getting his feet tangled up in lose underwear and falling face-first into dirty laundry. His nose crinkled when he smelt three-days old sweat in his P.E sports jersey… Never mind that. Fayt scrambled to his computer and after punching in a few buttons, a large translucent blue screen materialized in thin-air displaying a lock icon. Fayt growled in frustration.

"_MOOOOMMMM! WHAT'S MY LUGGAGE PASSCODE?"_

"You haven't packed yet!?" came Ryoko's voice from somewhere in the house.

"_MOOOOMMMM!_" Fayt whined.

"Oh, why am I even surprised? VAC-124-0087E/56!"

"Thanks!"

As soon as the luggage materialized in the center of his room, Fayt flung open his closets and proceeded to toss in every single article of clean clothing he could find. Suffice to say, it wasn't much, but it'll do. Along the way, he could've sworn he threw in some winter clothing as well, but was way past the point of caring especially since the shuttle would arrive soon. Optimistically, perhaps he'd start a new trend on Hyda or something – "Fun in the sun Fur coats" or "Boas by the Beach"… yeah, maybe not, but at least they still had that "fresh out of the washing machine" smell.

In his haste, he had accidentally knocked over a gold, metallic object off the top of his work desk. The circular, flat device clattered onto the floor and the top lid sprung open to project a marvelous and extensive view of the Milky Way galaxy and its dazzling stars. It was currently jammed at the Elicoor System. This was for his Astronomy class for a project due after summer vacation.

Now, Fayt Leingod wasn't exactly the studious type and usually left his homework to the very last minute, but when it came to anything related to engineering, that was a whole different story. Despite being the son of the famed Dr. Leingod, a researcher of Symbological Genetics for the Pangalactic Federation, and accepted into the School of Symbological Genetics in the Bachtein Science University, Fayt knew this wasn't the life for him. He had always been more interested in the field of Engineering – had a knack for it too – and was more than half-tempted to enroll in the school of that profession. There was just something immensely appealing about gadgets and gizmos compared to spells and mystics, proton canons to summoner circles. Alas, there were certain expectations pertaining to the Leingod name.

Fayt crouched down and picked up the small device. He unscrewed the main compartment and found that a few wires had been shaken lose. It didn't affect the touch, information and projection capabilities, but it prevented him from accessing other regions in the MilkyWay like the Sol System. This project was his baby and the urge to repair it was nagging at his conscience.

'Ah well. At least mom and dad won't complain if they see me bring _some_ homework for the trip,' Fayt mused, throwing a few tools into his luggage and pocketing the device. He attached a chain to it in case it fell out of his pants during the journey.

Done with his packing and having a few more minutes to spare, Fayt typed in some codes on his computer and the wall beside his bed disintegrated to reveal the view of the nighttime cityscape. The sight was spectacular, glorious in its divine technological splendor: shuttles and public transporters whizzed past on seemingly insubstantial roads that lit up in colors to compliment the commercial buzz of the extravagant city; towering skyscrapers and beauteous parks fanned the landscape on floating platforms and islands; the evening horizon shimmered and faded to be replaced with visions of dark blues and purples of muted twilight; and at the center of the hustle and bustle, hovered the proud statue of Lady Liberty – a timeless and transcendent beacon of hope and progress.

Fayt couldn't help but release a sigh of utmost longing. True, his home was magnificent; he had friends who would simply kill to live in such a fine establishment. However, there was one thing Earth lacked and that was the sight of stars. He remembered seeing in some old history videos of Earth during his time at college that in the past, without all the blinding lights to block out the darkness, people would look out to the wisdom of the stars for guidance. Earthlings of old claimed that the stars held all the answers, indiscernible layers of untold secrets that men could only hope to understand.

Well, he didn't know about that, but one thing's for sure – they made a pretty sight.

He took out his device and flipped it open, taking in the wondrous image of the plentiful stars that surrounded the Elicoor System. Man… living there for a while wouldn't be half-bad, he reckoned.

He was forcefully dragged out of his musings when Sophia's hologram appeared before him, a bemused smile on her lips and wide eyes twinkling with mirth. She was wearing a pastel pink pullover that ended precariously at mid-thigh, concealing what Fayt assumed to be a swimsuit, and a pair of matching pink slippers; her long chocolate locks that were usually let down, were tied up in a messy bun. The hologram placed her hands behind her back and leaned forward, giggling sweetly.

"You ready for Hyda, Fayt?"

Said male grinned in response.

"As ready as I'll ever be!"

He placed his bedroom on hibernation mode and picked up his luggage. It was time to have some fun!

* * *

This… was not fun.

The journey to Hyda had taken approximately two moons, making Fayt rot away on the transport shuttle in pure boredom and regret having not brought his portable game system with him. Then, they arrived, and Fayt's suffering didn't appear to cease at all.

Apart from accidentally bumping into and being told off by an annoying green clown, and having his luggage tossed carelessly into his hotel room by an obviously inexperienced, but extremely handsome and well-built blonde bellhop (the man just smirked and shrugged as Fayt raged), Hyda IV hadn't exactly lived up to its expectations of "choice holiday spot" in Fayt's opinion. On top of that, his parents had banned him from accessing Granntier Resort Hotel's game simulator at the lobby, placing Sophia in charge of their wayward son as they went to the beach to soak up some sun.

Sophia being Sophia and a girl, couldn't agree more with Uncle Robert and Aunt Ryoko's instructions pertaining to her childhood friend's one true love: games. Fayt swore she had some sort of vengeance against them; the girl did everything in her power to keep him far off the lobby premises as possible, arranged with the hotel management to cut off even the simplest of console games from his room computer, and made sure he stuck with her wherever she went. Of course, this meant that he was obliged (forced) to do whatever she wanted.

It was official. This summer totally sucked.

Fayt found himself gazing out at the ocean and let out a weary sigh. Weren't vacations supposed to be _fun?_ The kind where everyone was free to do whatever they wanted and enjoyed themselves, kind of fun? So why in the 100 billion galaxies was he out here, appeasing his childhood friend, when he _could_ be inside playing video games, which was something he found to be _extremely fun?_

Oh right. Because he was supposedly grounded on a holiday resort. Yeah, that made _real_ sense…

That and when Sophia caught him trying to sneak off to the lobby, she had threatened to cut all the wires in the resort! Somehow, Fayt didn't doubt she'd do just that. It _was_ Sophia after all…

"Fayt Leingod!"

"I'M STILL HERE!"

And true to his words, Fayt hadn't moved from his spot on the sand, while Sophia continued splashing around in the water. She had on a lose-fitting but revealing pink tank top that showed off her cleavage nicely; her tight-fitting hipster jeans were unbuttoned. This left Fayt wondering how he hadn't noticed his childhood and best friend mature into the lovely lady he was looking at now, or why he never felt attracted to her in all their years of knowing her. Guys at school would make passes at her, or complain about how lucky he was being close to her, but he felt nothing. In fact, Fayt wondered when was the last time he actually felt _any _particular attraction to any girl, or anyone really, and no, special event-only master-level game equipment didn't count… no matter how sexy that Fire Lance in "Flaming Battalion IX" was.

Fayt noticed that Sophia had her jeans rolled up and the water was only up to her ankles, leaving him to wonder what the point of going to the beach was, if she didn't intend to actually swim… or get wet… Why did she need him here again?

Then again, if she _did_ want to swim, all she had and insisted on maintaining, was last year's bikini, and she was getting a little pudgy with all the sweets she'd been snacking on. Yeah, no matter how 'hot' the girl got, she would always be his chubby Sophia… Maybe it was a good thing she didn't want to actually swim after all.

Suddenly, someone waved a hand in front of his face and when Fayt looked up, he found himself staring at a cute brunette girl about his age – wearing a swimsuit that actually _fit_ her and _boy, how it fit her_ – standing before him.

"Hey there," she eyed him from head to toe "Say… you're kinda cute. And kinda single, hmm? What'cha doing all alone here?" A flirty smile was on her face.

"Um, uh, nothing…" was all that Fayt managed.

The girl's smile morphed into a seductive leer. She sat herself comfortably next to Fayt and sidled up against him. She whispered into his ear, adding a little needy whine to her tone, "You know… hanging on this beach has got me as dry as a dog. If you're not doing anything, wanna come up to my room for a little… drinky?"

"Um… Uh… Drinky…?" Fayt stuttered in confusion, before the realization of what she _truly_ meant dawned on him. He blushed from head to toe.

"W-Well, I… You see – "

"Fayt, who's _this?"_

Saved by the one person he had been complaining about the whole day. He took it all back. Well, most of it.

For his personal safety (as a man), Fayt shrugged, honestly not knowing who the flirt was other than a girl trying to get into his pants… He didn't think he should mention that though. He didn't want to add 'getting slapped by a girl' on his list of vacation plans.

The flirt merely looked Sophia over in disdain, crinkling her nose as if she smelt something unpleasant. Then, she flung herself at Fayt and clung onto his arm shamelessly, nodding at the now fuming Sophia.

"Who's _that_," she drawled "your sister?"

And so, Fayt, the suave gentleman of his time, said the first thing that came into his mind.

"Um, yeah, something like that."

"_WHAAATTT!?_ Since when were we brother and sister?!"

"I said 'something _like_ a sister'! What're you getting all mad about? Sheesh!"

Oh,great. Simply _fantastic. _Why was he always the one in the wrong? What had he done now? He'd only just told the damn truth! He had known Sophia since they were kids; she was just like a sister to him. For goodness sake, they bathed together when they were little and they still walked into each other's room half-naked sometimes… Shouldn't the girl be _happy?_

The flirt seemed to be satisfied with his answer. "Great! Then she's not your girlfriend and can _bug off!_"

And then the wires in Fayt's brain made a connection. Ohhh… Now this was going to be complicated… and awkward…

The love of his life was still video games of course, but… _that_ would explain Sophia's wild blushes when she saw him shirtless.

"Look lady, Fayt doesn't want to go anywhere with you! He's with me, so just leave him alone!"

"Uh – "

"Who are you, his mom? Why not let Fayt-darling decide for himself what he wants! He's a _grown man_! I'm _sure_ he has his needs. So scram, little girl."

"Uh – girls?"

"_Little girl?!_ You're one to talk, you bi – "

"Hey! Calm down, you two! Knock it off!"

The new voice came not from Fayt – who hardly knew how to even identify the makings of a catfight, let alone break one up – but from a Foxtail girl in a yellow bikini. She appeared to be around the same age as Fayt and the brunette flirt, and judging by the way she casually placed her hand on the aforementioned girl's shoulder, they were probably friends. The humanoid's action seemed to have calmed her friend down, but Sophia was still livid.

"Keiko, leave these two alone, okay? Let's just enjoy our holiday. You've tried every guy on the beach already. Time to call it a day, don't you think?" The girl nodded reluctantly, before rising to her feet and making her way back to her tanning spot. Satisfied, the Foxtail girl turned to Fayt and Sophia (who had calmed down significantly at the flirt's departure) and bowed in apology.

"I'm so sorry for my friend's behavior. She's a little… hot-tempered. I hope we didn't interrupt anything…?" She indicated at the two teenagers, who shifted awkwardly.

"No, it's fine. Thank you… for your help," Fayt replied politely when he realized Sophia wasn't going to say anything.

The humanoid shot him an apologetic stare, before turning around and walking out of sight. Fayt discreetly watched her go the entire way, paying extra close attention to the swish of her tail as she swayed her tan hips. Now, Fayt had never really been attracted to any of the girls who had come onto him in the past, nor had he shown any particular interest in those who didn't, but he had always felt an erotic pull to the exotic-looking ears, tails or other features of various races of humanoids. Earth didn't have many of those, and neither did Hyda… although he _did_ see a few Felinefolk, an elf-eared boy from Expel, a Featherfolkian here and there at their hotel, the occasional Foxtail like that girl over there… He didn't care much about the rest of the girl (other than her admirable maturity), but _damn_, there was something about those ears and tails…

"Fayt? Are you checking out that fox girl? _Fayt?!_ Oooh! Forget it!"

Before he could utter an intelligible response, Sophia had stormed off towards the transporter room that led back to the hotel, leaving Fayt to groan inwardly on what he did wrong _this time._ He sprinted after her and caught her by the shoulder, spinning her around to face him effortlessly. While Sophia's eyes blazed with unspoken fury and irritation, Fayt's shone with absolute perplexity.

"Aw, come on Sophia, why are you so upset? I-I didn't play any video games; I bought you that strawberry milkshake you wanted; I went to the beach with you; heck, I even went to that beauty spa with you; I didn't go with that girl… What did I do wrong?"

Her glare shot up by 10 levels on the intimidating scale.

"You _really_ don't know anything, do you?"

There was a long pause, before Fayt slowly and calmly shook his head, sincere confusion shining in his eyes – no, he really didn't. When Sophia realized the sadness of this truth, she closed her eyes and slowly let her earlier anger dissipate. She took a deep breath before opening her eyes, doing her best not to show how torn she really was on the inside. Really, she was disappointed.

"Fayt, am I… am I really _just_ like a sister to you?"

Fayt's heart jumped to his throat and he cleared it, adverting his eyes awkwardly. So, his earlier suspicions _were_ true… But he had always been honest with Sophia, and he figured she deserved the truth even now, no matter the hurt she would undoubtedly feel from here on. He nodded his head. Her eyes were downcast.

"O-Oh… I… I see…" she bit her trembling lower lip.

Fayt shifted in his place uncomfortably. He wasn't exactly the best at expressing his feelings and he didn't feel particularly good rejecting his best friend, who also happened to be the worst at controlling her emotions. Thankfully for him, Sophia didn't press him on that any further.

"A-And that girl… Keiko? The one on the beach? Did you… like her?"

_No, _Fayt wanted to tell her – wanted to tell her how it was weird, how it was wrong, and how it was unjustifiable to fall madly in love with someone he just met. But he needed to treat this conversation delicately and chose not to mention that.

"No, I didn't."

"And that fox girl…?"

Fayt sighed, exasperated.

"No, Sophia," he answered gently "I don't like her either."

Sophia took a while to collect herself, gather her thoughts and control her emotions. Yes, she was hurt by the fact that the guy she had liked for so long didn't return her feelings. Yes, she was disappointed because she had thought that the reason Fayt always rejected girls before was that maybe, just _maybe_, he liked her too; and yes, she felt betrayed because she thought that being her best and childhood friend, Fayt would never hurt her. However, she guessed that when it came to matters of the heart, they had to draw a line.

All of a sudden, she let out a little giggle. It wasn't much, simply a mere whisper and slight shake of her shoulders, but it was enough to catch Fayt's attention. Least to say, he was mystified. One moment, the girl looked so torn between anger and tears that she looked like she was about to experience a breakdown; the next, she was practically _laughing_.

'Girls are weird,' Fayt thought to himself in fear '_Very_ weird.'

"W-What are you laughing about?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh, nothing," Sophia smiled, but even Fayt could tell that it was forced.

"I'm just wondering when you'd ever get your first girlfriend! I mean - you've _never_ showed any interest in them, which makes me wonder… No, NPCs in video games don't count," she added playfully, noticing her friend pout at that observation.

And then, the implicit meaning of her words finally hit him.

"Hey, wait! Are you saying that I'm…"

Sophia smirked. "I didn't say anything, Fayt." Then she remembered something. "But you were rather focused on that fox girl… I wonder why?"

Fayt blushed and mumbled something quickly beneath his breath. Unable to catch that, Sophia leaned in closer and made him repeat it. With great reluctance, Fayt did so… and immediately regretted it when she burst out laughing.

"Ah ha ha! Who would've thought you were into _those_? So, not only does your preference lie elsewhere, but you have a _fetish_ too?"

"Sophia, quit it!" Fayt snapped, but with the mad crimson across his cheeks, it sounded more like a pathetic whine. "Some people like those with great bodies; some like ears and tails… I'm not gay!"

"I – gasp – I'm n-not s-saying – gasp – anything!" she managed in-between her laughter. "I'm just surprised! You never told me this before…"

When her laughter died down, a forlorn smile graced her lips, softening her features. Fayt gazed at her, instantly reminded of innocence in their childhood.

"Fayt?"

He answered her gently. "What is it? Are you still upset?"

Sophia shook her head. "No, it's just… I just thought it would be nice… finding someone you're close with to spend the rest of your life together. You know… like Uncle Robert and Aunt Ryoko."

"Sophia…" Fayt took a confident step forward and pulled her into a comforting embrace. The younger one clung onto him without a second thought. "You don't have to spend years knowing someone, being with someone, to be close. The both of you may live in different systems and still be close. Right here – he placed his hand over his heart – You'll just know. Don't worry, you'll find him. One day."

Sophia sniffled and gave a curt nod. Fayt held her a little longer before pulling away. She was obviously still upset, so he employed the one sure way to cheer her up.

"Hey, Sophia? Hey – hey, look at me – how would you like it if I gave you Dr. Leon's book, _The Special Theory of Symbology_?" Sophia's sadness melted into an almost dreamy look.

Dr. Leon D. S. Gehste was Felpoolian man (a race of humanoids) who lived on Expel hundreds of years ago, just when the planet was joining the Pangalactic Federation. He had mastered Symbology at the young age of 12, and his knowledge was still revered and taught in schools till today… Of course, it had taken until college for Fayt to learn that Dr. Leon had engaged in a secret love affair with an older man he had met as a child. Heck, he doubted that Sophia had even heard of Claude C. Kennedy, an ex-lieutenant of the Pangalactic Federation, let alone he'd shared the bed with her childhood idol. Fayt couldn't understand why they always left out the juicy details in high school.

"Really? You'll give me Dr. Leon's book?" Her excitement faded as she recalled something. "But… isn't that Uncle Robert's book? No can do, you can't just give me his treasured possession… It's a first edition signed copy and it's hundreds of years old!"

Fayt shrugged, shooting her a wide grin.

"Nah, dad gave it to me recently, and I want you to have it. I even begged him for it, just so I could give it to you! I wanted to give it to you as a birthday present, but… it'll be yours anyway so what the heck! Dad said I could give it to someone as long as it was you."

It wasn't a complete lie – his dad _had _given it to him, yes, but he wasn't all that interested in Symbology. It was Dr. Leon's love life that fascinated him. He didn't know what he'd ever do with the thick book anyway – except maybe use it as an over-size, fancy paperweight – so he figured Sophia would have a better use for it than him.

"Fayt… I can't lie and say I don't want it, but…" She looked him in the eye, a determined expression on her face. "Keep it until my birthday and just promise me one thing."

He nodded, curious where she was going with this.

"Promise me that you'll never bribe my – anyone's grief with presents ever again, okay?" Fayt was taken aback by her bluntness, but nevertheless agreed.

"Roger. Message received loud and clear!" He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck nervously. "So… we're cool, right?"

Sophia just gave him a small smile and placed her hand gently over his. "I… I think I'll head to my room now. I need to be alone for a while. To sort out my feelings… but I'm not mad anymore. Thanks… for being honest with me, Fayt. I'll… see you later, okay?"

Fayt nodded his head in understanding.

"Sure, take as long as you need… If you need anything, I'm still here for you."

"I know. You're a good friend, Fayt." She stepped into the teleporter and disappeared.

* * *

Fayt wandered aimlessly around the hotel, his body physically present but mind not so much. He was finally alone; he could do whatever he wanted without fear of getting caught by his parents. However, the thought of Sophia's earlier confession earlier didn't really inspire his urge to sneak into the lobby and play video games anymore… He sighed; this vacation just seemed to be getting from bad to worse.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Fayt didn't see where he was going, nor did he seem to hear the distinct '_whoosh!' _of a door sliding open, but when a child's voice called up to him, he found himself looking down into a pair of curious eyes of a tanned little girl. The child had milky-blonde hair tied up in messy pigtails, had on a pair of large loop earrings, and adorned a peculiar pink-purple costume with matching sashes that hung from her bracelets to her waist. On her feet she had on a pair of strange yet clumsy-looking shoes.

"What? Who _are_ you? And what're you doing here? This is the Rosetti Troupe's dressing room!" said the girl, tilting her head innocently to one side as she accessed him. Then, a sudden spark of realization entered her eyes.

"I know! You must be one of my fans!"

Fayt blinked once, twice, and then three times. Was it him, or did his brain fail to compute every single thing that was occurring today?

"Um… what?"

The girl twirled around and clapped her hands in glee. "That's it, that's it! You _are_ a fan! Normally, I'd tell you to wait until after the show, but since you're so cute, I'll make an exception! Don't go spreading it, you hear? What's your name by the way?"

"Uh… Fayt? Fayt Leingod."

The young gypsy then took out a black permanent marker, stood behind Fayt, and began defacing the back of his shirt.

"To my darling… Fayt… With love from... the Fairy of Illusions… Pepitta Rosetti – she finished it off with a childish drawing of her face – There, all done!" Fayt stood there mortified. He didn't even want to _know_ what she did to his shirt.

"Look, Pepitta, was it? I'm not a fan – and who _are_ the Rosettis?" Fayt asked, honestly curious.

"Huuuh?" the girl called Pepitta pouted. "You're… not a fan? Then – then who are you? And how could you not know who the Rosettis are? We're the best circus performers in the entire galaxy!"

"Circus performers? You're a performer?" Fayt echoed, taking the opportunity to access the room he was in. The floors were brightly tiled – different from the other rooms in the hotel – and random props that were usually used in circus acts, were strewn all over the room. To the corner, a large clothing rack stood with various brightly coloured, sequin-lined costumes hung on it. At the other end of the room was a vanity corner with a wide mirror lined with lights and a bunch of makeup scattered over the tabletop; a black magician's hat lay inconspicuously on the stool.

Pepitta nodded her head vigorously. "Yup! We're going to perform tonight and it'll be my first show! I'm the host you see, so I gotta entertain the crowd really well before the show starts!"

Fayt smirked at her and crossed his arms. "Oh? So you've never performed before?"

She laughed nervously. "Heh heh… Yeah… Figures you're not my fan. I _did_ think it funny at first…"

"Yeah, but hey – for what it's worth, this is your very first autograph! It's going to be worth something in the future, huh?" The little girl seemed to perk up at his words. "Oh it'll be worth something alright! You'll probably be able to but a whole planet with that shirt! Maybe even three!"

Fayt chuckled. He would never get tired of the enthusiasm from children, but even this he had to be skeptical about.

"Woah there! Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"

Pepitta's excitement faded and her gaze fell to her feet, disheartened. She toed the floor. "You… don't believe me, do you?"

"Little missy, you alright, eh?" came a new voice to the side. A tall clown wearing an elaborate green and yellow outfit rushed right over. Seeing the little girl so distraught, he immediately turned to glare at Fayt. It was at that moment Fayt recognized him to be the grumpy clown that told him off earlier upon his arrival to Hyda.

"Who do you think you are, kid, eh? Insultin' the little missy and all, eh!"

"But I – "

"No, Gonnella, he just – "

As Pepitta began explaining the situation to the older clown, Fayt began to notice certain things that he hadn't before – like how Gonnella had pulled her close against his waist in a comforting gesture; how his fingers stroked her hair; how his frown melted into concern at the sight of her tears…

And that was when Fayt realized the major blunder he had just committed. The whole point of this wasn't about the money or autograph, but rather…

"No, I believe you," he said kindly, kneeling down to Pepitta's eye level, doing his best to ignore the furious clown who was probably glaring holes through his head.

"I'm sure you'd do great, Pepitta; and I'll be sitting right in the front, cheering you on!"

She gasped, her eyes wide in wonder and a light blush adorning her baby cheeks. "Really, Fayt? You really mean it?"

"Cross my heart!"

Pepitta cheered loudly, her prior sadness easily forgotten. "Yay! You're the best, Fayt! Wait right here, I'll go get you a ticket!"

When she zipped out of sight, Gonnella took that opportunity to approach Fayt and size him up. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the clown was jealous. Fayt simply stood his ground though, which seemed to aggravate Gonnella further.

"I don't care _who_ you are to the little missy, but I don't trust you, eh!" he growled lowly so as to not attract Pepitta's attention. Fayt wasn't the kind to back down from a challenge.

"Well, that makes two of us because I don't trust _you!_ What are you doing with the girl? Are you ignorant or something? She's practically half your age!" he hissed in retaliation.

Gonnella fell silent and just when Fayt thought he finally got the upper hand against him, the clown regarded him with a solemn stare. Gone was the informal wayward attitude when he next spoke, "By saying that – he shook his head – Kid, you just proved who the real ignorant one is."

He stepped away and proceeded to aid his lover in her search for the invitation ticket. Fayt simply stood in his place, feeling lousier than ever before.

Damn it. Love seriously wasn't up his alley; and he wondered why video games always made it look so simple and straightforward.

Maybe if he'd just stick to defeating Level-100 bosses, everything would be better.

* * *

**Author's note:**

So... did anyone catch the references? ;p

Read and review please!


	3. Making Contact

**Author's note:**

Thank you for the views. It puts a smile on my face knowing that there are people actually reading my work.

Special thanks goes to my first reviewer, T. O. Cole, whose review I will respond to below:

T.O. Cole - Thank you so much for your kind review. Seeing it really made my day knowing that there are those out there who appreciate my adaptation and wish to give it a chance. Roger is my favorite character too (obviously) and yes, I do always end up playing as him as well. Gotta love that kid's spunk. Plus how could anyone say no to those adorable eyes and that fluffy tail? -cough- I guess you know how Fayt ended up having _that_ kink now, huh? - cough- Yeah, picking on Fayt always makes for an amusing past-time.

And wow, an update in less than a week? In the middle of exam month too? Dear lord, I must be crazy.

* * *

**The Stars Told Me So**

**By Dark Interval**

**Chapter 3: Making Contact**

* * *

"You got your ticket, now _beat it_, eh!"

"Wait, Gonnella - !"

And that was how Fayt found himself literally thrown out of the dressing room, only to land unceremoniously – and rather heavily – on his bottom on the cold and hard tiled floor. "And if I see you upsettin' my little missy again, you're gonna wish you had never come to this planet!" The door slid shut and Fayt could've sworn he heard a faint yet cheerful, "See you at the show, Fayt!" from beyond it. He groaned and forced himself to his feet, dusting the back of his pants.

God, he hated clowns.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out his communicator and flipped it open. A disappointed frown marred his features when he realized Sophia hadn't attempted to contact him during the past half-hour. What was the girl doing? Was she all right? Maybe she was secretly starving herself in her grief and it was all his fault… The temptation to check up on her was exceedingly high. But then again, she had clearly stated that she needed some time alone…

Next was the matter regarding his parents: Did they know? Had Sophia told them? How would they feel? Disappointed? Upset? He always suspected that they expected him to end up with his best friend (the Leingods and the Esteeds went way back), even if it was obvious that whatever he felt towards her was purely platonic…

"Yo, kid! Snap out of it!"

"Huh?"

A pair of smiling, deep green eyes met his and when his brain finally caught up to the present, Fayt gave a yell of recognition.

"_YOU!"_ He jabbed an accusing finger at the startled man.

_"You broke my luggage!" _

It took a while for the well-built blonde to figure out what the boy was getting at, before he chuckled and casually swatted Fayt's hand aside. The bellhop ran his fingers through his hair nervously and it was then Fayt suddenly noticed the amount of muscle this guy was packing. The pale beige hotel uniform hugged every inch of the man's body _very_ nicely; teasing at the obvious toned body it was desperately trying to hide. The sleeves of the uniform were ripped off to accommodate his muscular arms. A peculiar black tattoo was wound around his neck. How Fayt hadn't noticed all this before, he had _no bloody idea._

The golden haired Adonis noticed Fayt's stare and shot him a teasing wink.

"Sorry, kid, but guys aren't my style. If you get my drift."

Fayt caught himself and shook his head vehemently.

"Shut up, I don't swing that way," he growled, very much perturbed. What was this, a running joke or something?

"Anyway, what do you want?"

"Just wanted to pass you this." The bellhop tossed him a small black keycard. "Sorry for breaking your stuff. Just let the hotel scan that before you leave and we'll compensate for the damages."

Fayt stared at the card for a good two seconds before pocketing it. Maybe he'd take back what he said about this guy earlier. At least he was nice enough to look for him and apologize… or it could just be the resort's way of diverting customer bad-mouthing with regards to their service.

"Thanks, um…" Fayt trailed off, realizing he didn't know the man's name.

"The name's Clyde Forecaster. Don't sweat the details, kid. No thanks needed."

The blonde gave a casual salute before turning around and walking off, disappearing around the corner, Fayt watching him go. He couldn't explain it, but there was just something nagging at the back of his skull that that Clyde guy didn't belong in his current line of work. Heck, he looked better suited as a self-defense coach, or gym instructor… or fit enough to enlist in one of the Federation's military units.

Fayt shrugged and proceeded down the opposite direction towards the lobby. There wasn't really much to do apart from killing time with video games – God forbid, did he just think that? Besides, it'd be hours before dinnertime, so he figured he'd at least try to hit Level-100 with his character by then.

Just then, his communicator beeped and when he flipped it open, he was greeted by the sight of his mother's smiling face. Judging by the straw sunhat on her head, she was probably still by the beach.

"Hey, mom. What's up?" he began cheerfully.

"_Fayt, honey, your father and I won't be joining you and Sophia for dinner tonight. We're terribly sorry about that."_

"Wait, why?" His smile disappeared. Oh, great. Perfect timing.

"_It's our anniversary, sweetie! Don't you remember?"_

She sounded hurt and Fayt did a double-take, rubbing the back of his neck in shame. Damn, how could he have forgotten that? His parents' anniversary had practically been the other reason for their holiday trip to Hyda… it _was_ where his dad proposed to his mom after all.

"Oh, right. Sorry, mom… must've slipped my mind." Ryoko Leingod gave her son a knowing look.

"_You were probably in the middle of one of your games, weren't you? Oh, no matter; as long as you don't overdo it. You kids be good and don't bully Sophia. Use the money I gave you to buy something nice to eat – and no, junk foods do not make proper meals. Don't go wasting it all on video games, you hear?"_

What was this? He wasn't five anymore, for goodness sake!

"_Sorry again, honey and apologize to Sophia for me. Have fun!"_

"Okay, mom. You too."

The conversation ended and Fayt snapped the device shut. He highly doubted Sophia would accompany him for dinner tonight, much less leave her room and see him, at least for today. He sighed loudly as he dragged himself through the lobby doors. He stared dispassionately at the game simulator.

"Make that Level-120…"

Man, who would've thought playing video games would've struck him as boring?

He keyed in his login details and stepped back as the simulator door whooshed open.

* * *

Sophia lay on her stomach and sighed, disheartened. Despite the warm and beckoning beams that filtered through her balcony windows from Hyda's sun, the brunette couldn't bring herself to go out and bask in all its glory, lounging lethargically on the room's queen-sized bed. She was currently flipping through her information tablet and catching up with the latest teenage gossip. The floor was littered with chocolate-sweet wrappers and to the side was a black trashcan stuffed with empty candy boxes. Sure, Fayt had told her time and time again to watch her diet, but she couldn't help it! She snacked when she was depressed… Besides, if she got fat, it'll be Fayt's fault – so there!

Girl-logic made perfect sense.

The brunette was in the middle of an article titled '10 Easy steps to get over your crush', when a new article popped up at the top corner of her screen, the little icon flashing a brilliant red. This caused her to frown curiously. The colour red referred to article notifications pertaining to Intergalactic News. She dragged the article with her finger and expanded it outside the tablet to get a better look, only to roll her eyes in exasperation. So apparently, both the Aldian Empire and Vendeen were at war with each other and both parties _still_ didn't appear to want to reach any form of mutual consensus – big deal.

The Aldian Empire operated in a hive-like collective, their race possessing no concept of individuality, nor awareness of a higher consciousness, and its people were all connected to a single organism on their home world. The Aldians had declared war against the Pangalactic Federation simply due to the fact that they failed to comprehend the concept of individual life forms under the Federation's protection. Then there was the Vendeeni, an amphibian race of technological prowess that showed zero interest in the Federation. Everyone knew of their constant and adverse rejections towards Federation assistance, even during times of war such as their current strike with the Aldian Empire.

"A bunch of stubborn idiots if you asked me…" Sophia muttered.

She knew there were other organizations out there that continuously resisted the Federation and she frankly couldn't understand why. The Pangalactic Federation were always steadfast in ensuring the progress, order and protection of all the regions under them…

Sophia trashed the notification and was just about to return to her magazine article, when a sudden tremor shook the entire hotel so violently that she fell off the bed, landing on the carpeted floor in a tangle of sheets.

"Wha- what in the world…?"

The next thing she knew, her room was engulfed in red as a shrill siren penetrated the air.

_Attention all guests. This is an emergency alert. Hyda has been hit by an earthquake of a level 5 magnitude – correction, level 6 – level 7 – _

Sophia blanched. L-Level 7!?

_The cause is unknown. All guests are to remain calm and proceed to the nearest transporter room for evacuation. Due to the state of emergency, all transporters will be directed to Hyda's underground Evacuation Facility. I repeat: All guests – _

Sophia didn't even stick around to hear the rest of the announcement. The tremors were getting progressively worse as she exited the room and dashed down the corridor – or tried to, what with all the shaking – only to stop short, remembering something: Fayt.

That's right; Fayt was still wandering around somewhere. She had to call him, make sure he was all right. Sophia took out her communicator and keyed in a familiar number, only to panic when the device registered her friend as non-contactable. _Oh,_ this was _so_ not the best time for Fayt to leave his communicator switched off. She tried to call him a few more times, but to no avail. Just then, a new number flashed across her screen and she answered it.

"_Sophia? Oh, Sophia, thank goodness you're all right."_ It was Ryoko Leingod.

"Aunt Ryoko," she exclaimed in relief "Yes, I'm fine – do you know where Fayt is?"

The blue-haired woman's face fell in both disappointment and distress. _"Fayt? No, I thought he was with you! I got separated from Robert in all this chaos. I can't contact either of them!"_

A sudden tremor rocked the hotel – more powerful than before – and when Sophia chanced a glance out a nearby window, she did a double-take, eyes widening in horror. No – no, it couldn't be, unless her mind was playing tricks on her and there wasn't _actually_ a massive battleship hovering just behind those clouds… Sophia squinted to get a better look.

'Those colours… and that shape… could it be the Vendeeni!?' she thought to herself, wholly alarmed.

"_Sophia! SOPHIA! Are you still there?"_

Snapping back to the present situation at hand, said girl tried to remain calm as she instructed the frantic mother. "Aunt Ryoko, don't panic. I'm sure Uncle Robert is fine. He's probably making his way to the nearest transporter room as we speak!"

"_But what about Fayt!?"_

Sophia's heart skipped a beat and she closed her eyes momentarily to calm herself down.

'Come on, Sophia. Where will that moron be… think… think…' Her eyes flew open. Game simulator. That would explain the total absence of signal.

"Aunt Ryoko, I'll see you at the Evacuation Facility!"

"_No, wait, Sophi – "_

Sophia cut the call and raced down in the opposite direction, pushing against the frightened crowd. She was just about to make a turn round the corner, when she felt someone grab her wrist and yank her back so forcefully that she felt the air leave her momentarily. Then, a pair of large arms held her in place and when she looked up, she found herself staring into an equally large bearded face that held a pair of round eyes that shone with concern. Sitting on the giant's shoulder was a little gypsy girl with milky-blonde hair; a green-clad clown stood by his side, face scrunched up in annoyance.

"Nice catch, Ursus!" exclaimed the young girl who looked no older than 15. Her large companion simply gave a nod of acknowledgement. Sophia on the other hand, didn't share their sense of achievement and began to struggle viciously.

"Let go! _Let me go!_ I need to get to the lobby!" The green-clad clown's eyes widened in sheer incredulity from her statement.

"You must be crazy, eh! Didn't you hear the announcement? There's an _earthquake _happening right under our noses, eh! You got a death wish or something, eh?"

"I know that!" Sophia cried, helpless and afraid. Tears were beginning to gather at the corners of her eyes. "But my friend's in there! You didn't happen to see him, did you? His name's Fayt… h-he has b-blue hair a-and – "

Peppitta's eyes shone with recognition, while Gonnella simply rolled his in frustration. Oh, he _knew_ who Fayt was all right… that little punk. However, personal anger aside, this little lady obviously cared for the boy and he didn't wish to upset her any further. He placed a comforting hand on Sophia's shoulder.

"Hey, there, there… Chin up, eh? If your friend _were_ in there, he would've heard the announcement and left _ages_ ago. I bet he's worrying himself sick about you in the holding area, eh!"

Sophia sniffed and wiped at her tears. "R-Really…?"

Gonnella winked. "Really! Ain't that right, little missy? Ursus?" He turned to look at said duo that grinned and nodded their heads, assertive.

"Yup! We're heading there right now," chimed Peppitta, looking at Sophia kindly. "What's your name? I'm Peppitta!"

"Sophia," she replied softly. Peppitta nodded; it was good enough for her.

"Well, Sophia, come with us! We'll protect you, right Ursus?" The strongman grunted in response and without warning, lifted the surprised brunette effortlessly and placed her on his other shoulder.

Gonella whined as he jogged after them. "Eh! Little missy, what about meeeeee?"

Peppitta stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Oh, Gonnella, you're no good to me. We _all_ know how useless you are in a fight!"

The clown responded to that jibe with a mischievous smirk. "Well, I'm not useless in everything, eh? If I remember clearly, _somebody _said that I was good in other ways, eh! Just last night, I believe…"

Gonnella chortled while Peppitta crimsoned. Sophia fidgeted awkwardly on Ursus' shoulder.

Did she even want to know?

* * *

Fayt repeatedly slammed the side of his body against the simulator door, but it showed no signs of budging or a hint of damage in the least. When his right side was pretty much bruised and he realized his left side had apparently met a similar fate, he moaned in despair and fell to his knees. So what if he was an AAA-rank player? He was no good without a _real _sword…

"Someone! Anyone! Help! Is anyone still out there? _Hellooooo!_"

It was no use. He had been shouting for the past few minutes until his voice got hoarse. Even if anyone _were_ out there, they wouldn't be able to hear him. Game simulators were specifically designed to be 100% sound-proof to ensure users would be able to savor quality and the full gaming experience the battle simulator programme had to offer. This also meant that electronic devices couldn't be used during the gaming phase and in this room so as to not disrupt the players. And to top it all off, due to the extra-special durable properties of a particularly-manufactured alloy used to construct such simulation rooms, it could double up as a shelter resilient to most attacks done by proton cannons, phase guns, and so on.

Normally, all these would satisfy any person or game-enthusiast, like himself… BUT ALL THOSE WERE NO GOOD TO HIM NOW, WERE THEY?

Fayt fished out his communicator and found that nothing had changed; the device was as worthless to him now as it had been 20 minutes ago.

Earlier, he had been in the middle of a regular monster-fight, when he felt the tremors of an earthquake before the announcement came on. Of course, the game had been automatically terminated in light of the disaster. Before he could instruct the computer to supply him with more information and a video-feed of what was occurring outside Hyda IV however, the power had been cut, causing an instantaneous shut-down of the entire system. Thus, leaving him in his current situation, ultimately and hilariously, trapped.

Fayt pulled his knees up to his chest, a contemplative frown crossing his face. If anyone happened to walk in and see him right now, they would've been surprised at his sudden state of calmness. Hell, even _he_ surprised himself at his insane level of calmness. But something was nagging at him – had been nagging at him since the very start of the earthquake.

'I _still_ don't get it,' he rationalized mentally 'Hyda IV is a stable world of no tectonic activity. There shouldn't be any earthquakes.'

He sighed in resignation and buried his head in his arms. Again, he questioned himself on exactly what part of this holiday entailed the idea of 'fun'. Then, he began an intense speculation on today's misfortunes and concluded that he was either the unluckiest person in the entire universe, or there really was a god out there who truly hated him. Finally, he felt his soul and heart sink amidst the waves in a sea of quiet desolation.

Was he going to die? To waste away from starvation, dehydration, or get crushed by the ultimate effects of the earthquake? Where were Sophia and his parents now? Were they worried? Were they still looking for him? Or were they – no, he mustn't think that; he _wouldn't_ even go there.

"Mom… dad… Sophia… be safe…" Fayt whispered into the silence of his prison. He was scared, yes, but he didn't want his last thoughts to stem from fear. If those guys were all right and alive, that was enough.

He found it ironic really; that his own death would be in the very hands of the one thing he loved the most. Everyone did say that games would be the death of him one day…

Fayt's inner musings were interrupted however, when he heard a loud banging coming from the doors – someone was on the other side! An immense sense of relief and ecstasy washed over him as he practically flew to the door, only to yell and jump back in dreaded awe when a _human_ fist penetrated the barrier and almost gutted him in the stomach. Fayt blinked comically and could only stare at the hand dumbly, before another joined it to pry the wall of Fayt's prison open just as easily as one might part a curtain.

"Yo! You alright, kid?"

Fayt gave another yell and pointed at the new comer, flabbergasted.

"_YOU!"_

He couldn't believe it. There he was, as plain as day: the same guy who pissed him off, who was also the guy who offered compensation for his ill-conduct, and the very guy who was rescuing him now. Fayt felt extremely confused. Who _was_ this guy? Was he stalking him or something? How did he know he was trapped here? Did he even know in the first place? Why would be literally tear apart this room if he didn't? What race was he? Why was he concerned about him? And why wasn't he screaming bloody-murder and running for safety like the others?

His mouth must have been hanging open, because the blonde bellhop was giving him a weird look. If he weren't in shock, Fayt would've laughed.

"That's getting kinda old, don't you think?" said the blonde man with a smirk.

"H-How did you find me? How did you even know I was here?"

"Simple. That keycard I gave you had a built-in tracker."

When Fayt looked like he was about to say something – to ask _why _the guy would even want to track him in the first place, said guy grabbed his arm and hushed him.

"Save it, kid. I hate to break a nice reunion as much as any other person, but we gotta' get out of here!"

Fayt nodded vigorously and the two rushed out of the lobby, sprinting straight down the corridors. Debris lay on all sides and there were large gaping holes in the ceiling; shattered glass was strewn everywhere. The blonde yelled over his shoulder at a panting Fayt who was trying to keep up with his long strides. "All the transporters have been jammed to ensure the safety of all those people in the evacuation facility. We'll have to escape another way."

"How? Where?" Fayt asked in alarm. As far as he knew, the hotel transporters were the only way to get from one location to another.

"My ride's waiting for me – about time too," replied the blonde curtly. "Took the Eagle a while to get through all that scuffle, but everything's good to go!"

Fayt was about to ask what he meant exactly by 'scuffle' – after all, ships wouldn't be affected by land disasters like earthquakes – but thought it better to clarify things later when they were out of harm's way.

"Hey… Clyde, was it?" Fayt ventured unsurely "Thanks."

The man called Clyde only shook his head.

"Kid… don't thank me just yet."

* * *

They were beamed aboard Clyde's ship, the Eagle, and least to say, Fayt was _very_ impressed. Not only was it larger compared to most simple transport ships, but the insides were solid, equipped with the latest navigation and defense systems, not to mention stocked with large quantities of food supplies, medical supplies, and… were those ammunition chambers!?

Hold on just a second.

"Clyde, is this a- a _battle cruiser!?_" Fayt questioned the man who was lounging comfortably on one of the seats.

"Um, yeah, I guess you could say that," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

Fayt's eyes narrowed. "You stole it, didn't you?"

Clyde jumped up at that comment, feeling slightly offended. "Hey, a little faith in me wouldn't kill you, would it?"

Fayt felt more than inclined to punch the cocky guy in the face.

"I don't know, you tell _me!_" he answered back hotly. "Who _are_ you, anyway – really? And what exactly is _'the Eagle'? _Why did you place a tracker on me? Do you honestly expect me to believe you're just a normal bellhop after all _this_? Are you taking me to my parents and Sophia? Are they all right?"

"_Woah!_ Slow down, kid, take it easy!" Clyde held up his hands in a pathetic attempt to placate the situation. "One at a time, one at a time – he straightened up – Ok, first of all, your mother and that girl are safe. They're being transported to Remote Station #6 as we speak… what?" he paused at the wide smirk that was steadily getting wider, on Fayt's face.

"That was a trick question," said Fayt coolly, his arms folded. "There's no way you could've known that without keeping tabs on them like you did me… You're not very bright, are you?"

The blonde cursed beneath his breath as Fayt took a confident step forward. It felt good to have the upper hand over the guy for once.

"But… since we're on that subject, what about my dad? Shouldn't he be with them? What, you didn't miss him on your radar, did you?"

"Precisely – he was captured by the Vendeeni," came a new voice directly behind Fayt. It sounded wholly female and it didn't occur to Fayt – not even once – that there _had_ to be someone else piloting the ship if Clyde wasn't at the controls.

After recovering from a mini heart-attack, Fayt braced himself and turned around; the sight which greeted him stole his breath away. The woman who stood before him was – in the ultimate sense – incredibly beautiful, with high cheekbones set on a lovely, perfectly chiseled face, kissable rose-red lips, and a pair of twinkling, chocolate-brown eyes that seemed to hide a great pool of wisdom that her youthful features betrayed. Her hair was the same shade of blonde as Clyde's and long side-bangs framed her face delicately; the rest of her hair was tied up in a long plait; and if Fayt didn't know any better, he would have thought them to be related. In contrast to her demure and feminine face, the woman had on a peculiar dark green militaristic getup, complete with ankle-high combat boots and gauntlets. However, the overall air of elegance and grace still settled about her in spite of her rugged attire.

"Hi, it's nice to finally meet you, Fayt." She smiled at him kindly and Fayt could feel the beginnings of a blush settle over his cheeks.

'She's beautiful…' was all his brain seemed to know at this point. Clyde chuckled when he saw the boy staring at his partner.

"Careful. Don't go falling for her now," he warned with a hint of amusement. "She's a Klausian, so don't be fooled by her looks. She'd pummel you a hundred times over before you even realize what you did wrong."

Fayt turned to glare at Clyde. "Who said anything about falling for her?" Then, he remembered something and turned back to face the woman. "Wait – _how do you know my name?_"

The female merely chuckled in response and turned her attention to her partner. "I see you haven't told him yet, Cliff."

_Cliff?_

"… _WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"_ Fayt finally exploded. "And for the _last_ time, _who are you!?_"

Clyde – Cliff – whatever his name was, simply grunted in response and rose to his feet. "Give me a second, will you?"

He pressed a button on a device attached to his wrist and immediately the beige bellhop attire disintegrated to be replaced with a form-fitting male version of the outfit the woman had on. The uniform did better justice than the old staff attire, showing off all the blonde's muscles – especially those of his arms – and fitting him in all the right places. With the first few buttons of his top undone, Fayt could see the strange black tattoo around the man's neck more clearly; and then he realized why the sight of it had bothered him so much before. Earlier, this guy had said that his partner was a Klausian…

Fayt gasped. It all made sense now.

"Y-You guys are Klausians," stuttered Fayt who had lost all shred of confidence at this point. He began to back away cautiously.

"Klausians have always resisted the Pangalactic Federation and are considered a high-level threat because – because…"

Fayt couldn't bring himself to go on. He didn't like his position. Cliff sensed the boy's unease and decided that since the cat was already out of the bag, he might as well start filling the poor kid in. He pointed at himself with his thumb.

"Let's start over. The _real_ name's Cliff Fittir. And that – he pointed at his partner – is Mirage Koas: my chief navigator, pilot and partner-in-crime. We're agents from Quark," he finished smugly all the while staring at the silent teen. "Does that answer your first question?"

Fayt gulped and adverted his eyes. He knew it: that tattoo _had_ been an insignia for Klausians; and when Klausians were involved, the influence of Quark wasn't that far behind.

Quark was an anti-Federation organization based on Klaus III, which would explain why its members consisted of mainly Klausians – a race of extremely physical-impressive people possessing an unparalleled strength that far outstrip those of Earthlings. This was mainly due to their planet's harsh gravity that contributed to their level of high physical endurance. In recent years, Quark had expanded its reach exponentially, so much so that neither the Pangalactic Federation nor the Klausian government could afford to ignore it any longer. Quark had made it its sworn duty to rally forces that desired independence and true autonomy from the Federation, in order to win complete self-rule.

"S-So… this – the Eagle, you called it? – It's a Klausian battle ship."

"'Atta boy! Not too difficult figuring things out on your own, aye?" joked Cliff, but his carefree attitude didn't have any effect on the disoriented Fayt, who was desperately trying to comprehend the complexities of his situation.

"But I don't get it!" Fayt exclaimed, shaking his head. "Why would Quark want to track me? And what would the Vendeeni want with my dad? Aren't they in the middle of a war with the Aldian Empire?" And then he realized something else. "That earthquake… it was a planned Vendeeni invasion, wasn't it?"

Sure, he got that part down; but the whole idea didn't make any logical sense to him. Hyda IV was under Federation rule, yes, while Vendeen constantly refused Federation assistance; but there were no open hostilities… What had prompted their attack?

Cliff sighed and looked to Mirage for some help, but the female merely shook her head and returned to the controls, disengaging autopilot. Cliff sulked. Some help _she_ was…

'Argh, might as well give him the whole story,' thought Cliff reluctantly, before launching into explanations starting from the beginning.

As part of his mission, he was engaged by Quark to slip into Hyda IV and keep an eye on both Dr. Leingod and his son. Of course, being part of an anti-Federation organization had its drawbacks and he had to… blend in – which Fayt then realized why Cliff was so _bad_ at his job as a bellhop – Quark had anticipated a Vendeeni strike on the planet but unfortunately, due to Fayt holding a higher priority over Dr. Leingod, Vendeeni soldiers had gotten to him before Cliff could. As far as he knew, Dr. Leingod's capture had nothing to do with Federation-Vendeen relations. It was a direct and independent assault based on personal interests… whatever those were.

"So you see, I was supposed to abduct you." Cliff concluded, a little too lightly for Fayt's taste.

"You say it as if it were a good thing! And – " Fayt paused mid-rant when he noticed on the navigation panel that they were traveling on an unknown course. That, and he was sure Remote Station #6 was in the _opposite_ direction, like a gazillion miles off.

"What – Where are you taking me!?"

"To our rendezvous point, of course!" Cliff had moved to his post next to Mirage and buckled himself in. He gave a flabbergasted Fayt a pointed look and indicated with his eyes at the remaining seat at the back.

"I suggest you do the same."

His voice had taken on an uncharacteristic air of authority that left Fayt no room for argument. Without much choice, he strapped himself in; but that didn't mean the entourage of questions stopped.

"… Why?" It was more of a statement of resignation than a question.

"Our leader wants to speak with you," said Cliff matter-of-factly. It irked Fayt how the blonde could be so easygoing after all the action and drama that had unfolded back on Hyda IV.

"But why does Quark's leader want to see me? _I'm just a college student from Earth!"_ he knew he was beginning to sound hysterical, but he didn't care. He had every right to be. This entire day was turning _insane_!

"Uh… because our leader wants… to chat with you?"

Fayt was totally unconvinced.

"Nice try, but that's avoiding the question!"

"Hey, I don't know! I just do as I'm told!"

Cliff sighed when all he received in return was spine-numbing death glare.

"Look, there's no use resisting us. Your dad was captured by the enemy. I don't think the three of us are in any position to resist an entire planet's military force." His reasoning was beginning to get through to Fayt, so he saw it as a good sign to continue.

"I don't know _everything_, but our leader might. There's no harm speaking to her, find out what she wants, and maybe we can all go rescue your dad after, huh? Sound good?"

There was a pause, before Fayt nodded.

"Good. Now toss over your communicator, would you?"

Fayt did just that, only to gaze on astounded, when Cliff simply crushed it with his bare hand. Then he threw Fayt a new one.

"Can't have the Vendeeni tracking you down, can we?" Cliff raised a finger just when Fayt opened his mouth. "And before you ask, I. Don't. Know. Just save your questions for our leader."

"But – "

"I swear, if you ask _one more_ question, I'll comatose you for the rest of this journey!"

Fayt's mouth snapped shut instantly, but couldn't hold back a snicker when Mirage reached across from where she sat and yanked hard at her partner's ear. If nothing else, it was amusing seeing her getting the best of the huge, muscular man. Absently, he thought about his similar relationship with Sophia… well, except that Mirage was a whole lot more mature and beautiful, not to mention devoid of the skill of nagging one to death.

Also, he was pretty sure Mirage could whip him in a fight in about two point seven seconds flat.

"Honestly Cliff, stop trying to scare the boy. You know you can't pick up a house anymore than you can beat me in a fight."

"Hey, I'll have you know – "

"Hold that thought," she interrupted, running her fingers over the ship's controls. She remained oblivious to the strangling gestures Cliff was doing behind her back.

"False alarm. You were saying, Cliff?" A hint of amusement entered her voice.

"BAH! Forget it," Cliff rose from his seat "I'm going to take a shower. Buzz me up if you run into any problems."

"Roger." She shifted screens and paused. "Cliff… I _think_ you can forget about that shower."

"What now?" the blonde complained as he turned around to face her.

She entered a few complicated commands on the controls. "It seems we have a few Vendeeni ships on our tail. Expanding parameters."

A large map of their current location expanded across the viewing screen. The large yellow arrow in the middle indicated their position and the few tiny red dots catching up at the rear signaled approaching hostilities.

Cliff slammed a fist on the control panels. "_Damn it!_ They must have picked up on his signal earlier than expected. Mirage, power the gravitic warp engines. Let's lose these clowns."

"Roger. Entering gravitic warp in three seconds."

* * *

Cliff reclined in his seat, but a playful glint entered his eyes and he couldn't resist checking up on their "hostage".

"Yo, how're you holding up?"

A red-faced Fayt used that opening to let the dim-witted Klausian have it.

"_YOU COULD'VE WARNED ME BEFORE PULLING A STUNT LIKE THAT!"_

Cliff pulled back from the force of that yell, taken aback. He then proceeded to make an attempt (a rather sad one at that) to defend himself.

"Well – she _did_ say three seconds…"

"_That's not what I meant and you know it!"_ Fayt closed his eyes and counted to 10, doing his best to calm himself. He did _not_ want to risk bursting a blood vessel because of _him_. The blonde was hardly worth it.

"You guys may be used to all this, but I'm not."

Cliff hummed thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Ok! I'll tell you – We're going to warp again! We probably lost them; so let's resume our course. Mirage?"

Fayt scrambled to get a good grip on the armrests.

"Now wait just a – "

"Entering gravitic warp."

"_CLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFF!"_

* * *

"Yo, looking good, kid?"

Fayt held up a hand in surrender.

"Don't – Just don't talk to me."

"Ok!"

"I hate to spoil the fun, but we've got a problem," said Mirage gravely, wiping the viewing screen clear of navigation charts to reveal the view of an endless space in front of them. Cliff scratched his head, confused.

"Uh, Mirage? I don't see… anything."

Said woman ignored his observation, even more preoccupied with the controls than before. Just looking at her, Fayt, suffice to say, didn't really like where things were progressing.

"Sensors are picking up high levels of proton energy approximately 203.72 kilometers up ahead. I'm honing in on the signal. Screen on!"

Upon zooming in on the target location, the three of them were greeted by the sight of the entire Vendeeni battalion all lined up and ready to engage in a full-scale, all-out attack. Cliff collapsed onto his seat, immersed in his thoughts, while Fayt felt his heart plummet straight down into an abyss of no return. There was no way they were going to survive this one; and as soon as he thought that, the enemy commenced fire.

"Deploying power to shields."

The Eagle rocked from the impact of the blasts, with most of them just grazing the ship's exterior – but for who knows how long. Cliff swore colourfully, but still made no move to give any new commands. After what felt like an eternity to Fayt, Cliff finally sat up, a new wave of conviction rushing over him.

"Mirage, power normal engines and reverse, then engage gravitic warp."

"But Cliff, our gravitic engines have taken a huge hit. We won't be able to enter gravitic warp. Also, there's not enough power left in the conventional engines as I transferred most of it to our shields. If we disengage the shields and burn the Eagle's last source of power by heading back, and then fail to enter gravitic warp… we'll die."

How Mirage managed to say all that so calmly as if conversing about the weather, was beyond Fayt. He didn't really catch the whole front part, but he _definitely_ heard the word "die" and that was bad enough for him.

Suddenly, a few more enemy ships appeared on the radar behind them. Mirage's typing was frantic.

"This isn't good. They've got more ships blocking our escape. We can't go back."

'Great, an ambush…' Cliff thought to himself in frustration. He contemplated other options; he called up a map of the area on the computer.

"There are a few planets around here," he spoke calmly "We'll have to sit tight until we can warp again. Hopefully we'll get near one when we do."

"Don't you mean _if_ we do?" Fayt interjected anxiously. "And what about the Universal Preservation Pact? So what if we get out of this alive? We'll violate Federation law if we make contact with inhabitants from an Underdeveloped planet!"

"You got any better ideas!?"

Cliff resisted the urge to beat the living daylights out of the boy. The UP3 was hardly any source of concern at this point. Seriously, if he wasn't ordered to protect him…

As the Eagle continued taking more hits, Mirage took a deep breath before turning to look at her partner.

"Cliff, shields are down to 37%... what will you do?"

Cliff shot her an annoyed look. "The same thing I said, only this time we don't go back, but forward. It's risky… but I don't see any other choice. We'll just have to outmaneuver them until we can warp."

"But gravitic warp – "

"Will work," he finished, a confident smirk on his lips. "Relax, Mirage. I'm not one for praying, but I got a hunch things will turn out fine."

Ambush or no ambush, Fayt felt like getting up and whacking Cliff upside the head.

_A hunch?_ A hunch was hardly going to save them! Why was he entrusting his life to this moron again? Oh right, because he had no choice – _like how he was going to die before 20!_

Mirage continued to stare at Cliff evenly. "… We can only afford a maximum of four hits. I hope you understand that."

Cliff nodded and when Mirage finally dropped her stare, she was back on autopilot once more.

"Powering down shields. Transferring all remaining power to normal engines. Changing course."

Cliff turned to wink at a nervous Fayt. "Feeling lucky, kid?"

"L-Lucky!?"

The blonde ignored him and punched the air with his fist. "All right, let's blow this joint!"

Mirage turned to Fayt, a small smile on her face. "I hope you don't get airsick easily."

"Uh, no, not really…"

If her question didn't scare him, then the widening of her smile sure did.

"Good, because this is going to be one bumpy ride of your life. Here come the disrupter canons."

That was Fayt's only warning as the Eagle turned on its side, narrowly escaping the beam. One beam. From one canon. From only one out of a dozen other ships – eh, you get the drift.

"Conventional engines are down to 27% capacity!" Mirage flicked some switches above her head and strapped herself in extra tight. Her grips on the controls tightened.

"It's going to be close, guys… They're firing again." She turned to look at Cliff. "Your hunch better be right."

The Eagle closed in on the objective point, Mirage doing her best to dodge the multiple fires from the Vendeeni forces. None of them knew what would happen, but even Cliff said a prayer in his heart for the gods he didn't believe in. Suddenly, a loud charged-up sound filled the bridge and to the three of them, they never heard sweeter music.

"Warp engines back online! Activating gravitic warp in 5 – "

The Eagle gave a violent shudder.

"4 – "

They braced themselves.

"3 – "

Cliff clenched the armrests tighter.

"2- "

Mirage's fingers shook.

"1!"

Fayt shut his eyes.

And then a bright light exploded around them, the Eagle pitching forward through a vortex, before spitting them back out into the darkness of space. That had been one heck of a close call, but at least they were safe. After the warp, Mirage checked the Eagle's status, noting for damages. The two men remained in their seats, doing their best to calm their rapidly beating hearts.

"Well this puts a beat-down on our schedule," grumbled Cliff "Looks like we'll have to keep her waiting."

Mirage nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid so. We lost the ships, but we're a long way off from the rendezvous point – Oh, but _this_ isn't good…" Mirage said suddenly, trailing off with a sigh.

"What's that?" Cliff asked, already dreading the worst. When Mirage said something wasn't good, it _really_ wasn't good. She didn't take her eyes off the screen as various statistics ran by.

"The warp engines overheated, and the conventional and backup engines have been shot. If we don't land soon, we'll crash."

The two males' eyes widened, and Fayt wondered how she could still be so calm through all this. He didn't know who was crazier: joy rider Cliff, or poker-face Mirage… then again, they were both Klausians so Fayt figured they were equally worth the part.

"Please tell me there's good news…" said Cliff in a half-moan.

"Well, the good news is that we're in Elicoor II's gravitational field – "

_Elicoor?_ Wasn't that the system his school project was currently jammed at? Fayt straightened up and reached for said device – his project – in his pocket and proceeded to quickly read up as much as he could about the planet. Apparently, the planet consisted of only two main continents: Gaitt and Greeton, which were located in the Southern Hemisphere, while the Northern Hemisphere had a number of island chains, but no continents.

"Hey guys, look at this," said Fayt as he motioned for the two Klausians.

Cliff whistled. "Nifty device. Pretty handy since our database got fried. Where'd you get it?"

Fayt shrugged. "School project. Anyway, other than the fact that most of its atmosphere is composed of neon, Elicoor II has an atmospheric composition similar to that of Earth. Its axial tilt is 32.6°, it's 0.8 Aus from its star, and has a surface gravity of 0.9 G."

Cliff nodded. "Sounds good so far."

"But the planet's technology level is estimated to be equivalent to 17th century Earth."

"I take that all back."

Fayt read the last bit. "Although this planet is registered in the Galactic Atlas as an underdeveloped planet, there is no data available for the total population of sentient life forms as its people are in a constant… state of war…" Fayt trailed off, not liking the last part. He didn't feel particularly good entering a new hostile environment after having escaped a previous one.

"Great, just great," Cliff muttered, slumping in his seat. He slammed his fist harshly on the armrest in irritation. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Then, he turned to face Mirage. No point delaying the inevitable. All he could do was take things in stride.

"How long until we enter the planet's orbit?" Mirage shot him a half-smile, before returning to her seat and tightening her safety belt.

"30 seconds. Now I suggest you boys do the same. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

Fayt hadn't known her for more than an hour, but at the word 'bumpy' and after experiencing all_ that_ a few minutes ago, he needn't be told twice.

It was official – there was nothing _fun _about this vacation, it completely lacked the whole definition of fun, and just when he thought the nightmare was all over, Fayt found it steadily progressing into hellish, vile reality.

* * *

It was winter in Airyglyph as snow fell upon the rooftops and roads of the royal city. However, no wintry beauty could compare to brilliance hailing from the other side of the galaxy. A bright blaze lit up the sky for all of Airyglyph to see as a strange, unknown, metallic contraption plummeted to the ground, crashing into solid brick and tearing up cobblestones before it screeched to a halt. A large crowd gathered around the fearsome object – peasants and nobles alike – watching in awe as it crackled and surged with such _fascinating_ power.

Whispers penetrated the wintry silence as the people remarked of this divine entity. Could it perhaps be the work of their enemy, Aquaria? Was this technology a new Aquarian weapon? It definitely looked malevolent enough – it must've hailed from them!

"You! Out of the way!"

The crowd gasped and shuffled away in fear at the presence of the King's army. They didn't want to stand in the way of his majesty's conquest.

Unbeknownst to them, high up on the rooftops, a red-head woman scrutinized the wreckage and alien object, experiencing a whole different set of feelings compared to these people. This was a sign – a sign for change. If she could get her hands on it – on the people who piloted that thing, Aquaria could finally put an end to this war, and then...

And then she could see him again.

A surge of determination overcame her as she leapt across roofs towards the outskirts of the city. She had some arrangements to make. _Then_ she'd proceed to phase two.

* * *

Even further past the kingdom of Airyglyph, past Aquarian territory, another city stood – a picturesque little village that marked the beginnings of vast, yet peaceful lands of the Sanmite Rebublic. After having witnessed the bright red light that fell from the sky, a young Menodix boy grinned and tipped his helm back, never once taking his gaze off the sky.

"Heh heh… About time the stars answered! Yahoo! Time ta' go!"

He clambered down the roof of the village inn and slipped into his bedroom through an open window. The house was pitch-black, his parents and guests all sound asleep. Moving around on tip-toe, the small child dragged out a yellow knapsack that looked slightly too big for him and began shoving in various objects he might require for his journey. Grabbing his trusty axe which lay by the window sill, the Menodix was about to break for it when he spotted a string of Palmira flowers from his unfinished wishing charm.

His eyes softened at the sight for all it represented, all it meant to him, and he placed it carefully into his bag without a moment's hesitation. As soon as he rose to his feet however, the glow of candlelight vanquished the darkness and he found himself gazing up into the disappointed and furious eyes of the village innkeeper, chieftain, and also his father.

"For the last time, Roger S. Huxley, you are _not_ allowed to leave this village!" The older male boomed, uncaring if he awoke his wife or guests.

"But pops, ya saw that thing," Roger whined, resisting the urge to throw a tantrum. He was twelve-and-a-half years old, a big man, and he would not use tears to garner people's affections… unless he was desperate.

"I _gotta_ go check it out! It landed in the direction of Airyglyph, and Nel's there! Remember her? We haven't heard from her since the war started. I _have_ to make sure she's all right! I just have'ta!"

A flicker of emotion flashed across Huxley Senior's eyes at the mention of the Aquarian woman's name, but it disappeared as quickly as it entered and an unrelenting frown took its place.

"Roger, how many times have I told you – told everyone? No one is allowed to leave Surfeiro!" He punctuated each word with a jab at his son's chest.

"If you leave this village and cross the boarders to Aquarian _or_ Airyglyph territory, if they _see_ you, you'll be signaling to those nations the Sanmite Republic's participation in their war. This is why we've closed our doors to the surrounding regions for months."

"But by cuttin' ourselves off, we're givin' them one less place for their soldiers ta' heal," Roger argued back, angry tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He will not cry, _he will not cry. _

Weren't their folk known for, respected for their unbiased hospitality? Years ago, during the Aquor-Greeton war, the Sanmite Republic fought alongside Airyglyph and Aquaria against the Greeton-superpower, brothers-in-arms all three of them. Sure, it wasn't their fight this time, but Roger didn't understand why his nation decided to _completely_ turn their back against their own people by adopting a stand of non-involvement.

"Their actions are none of our concern, Roger. They called for war and we didn't."

"But – "

"_They know our position in this fight!"_

Huxley Senior let out a long breath.

"And I think… it is time you knew yours."

Suddenly, a sharp whistling pierced through the nighttime silence, ending off with rumbling explosion. At the sound of its proximity, it was probably coming from Melt's hut. Senior Huxley sighed in exasperation and trudged out to take care of the problem. That whole family was always up to something weird… if only his son and theirs weren't so close…

Roger snickered. "Better late than never, Melt!"

He'd had to seriously thank his friend for his foresight. He grabbed his stuff.

"Sorry, pops, but I already knew my position a _loooong_ time ago."

Tucking his ears completely into his helm and tying a sash around his waist to conceal his tail, Roger snuck off and made a break for the Trading Town of Peterny as fast as his little legs could carry him. He had a long way to go before he would arrive at Airyglyph, but he was _a real man; _he could do it, no sweat... Although seeing as it was late, he probably ought to find a place to stay first - wait, that would require money, wouldn't it?

... Maybe he should have given this whole plan a little more thought.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Finally, everything - or rather everyone - is coming together.

This chapter was slightly longer than the last one to make up for its shortness.

Read and review please.


	4. Frost in the Fireplace

**Author's note:**

Thank you for the wonderful page views. I couldn't ask for anything more (although reviews would definitely be nice, aye?).

I finished this chapter just this morning (yes, I consider 3:10am morning) and had my 3rd exam paper in the afternoon. I supposed I ought to seriously reconsider my priorities, but passion has always been my motivating force (as it should be for everyone else) and this is the result: dark eye circles, a successful paper, and a new chapter.

Albel finally makes an appearance in this chapter and I admit, it was awfully fun to write for him.

Review Responses:

T. O. Cole - Thank you for being such a loyal reader and reviewer. Words alone can't express how much I love you. I'm glad I made you nostalgic for Star Ocean with my fanfic. Writing it while listening to the soundtrack made me friggin' nostalgic too. The attack of feels was too much for my poor heart to handle. Yeah, Fayt won't have it easy in my story, but things would start to get better for him... eventually. And thank you! I was really worried I got Roger's character wrong. Your review really alleviated my concerns.

* * *

**The Stars Told Me So**

**by Dark Interval**

**Chapter 4: Frost in the Fireplace**

* * *

Cliff Fittir was a tolerable person. He may not look the part, but he was; and he prided himself on his ability to keep a good head on his shoulders and remain cool and calm when most situations called for it. Mostly easygoing, Cliff was no serious type, but he knew he could be… sometimes. He may not be the most patient person in the universe – much less in Klaus – but he figured he was decent enough and could control his temper in light of most things… except one –

"… insane! We can't make contact with the inhabitants of an underdeveloped planet! It's clear-cut violation of the UP3! I don't care if we have to stay here until help arrives. Certain boundaries shouldn't be crossed!""

He knew he should have knocked the kid out when he had the chance. To think he was going to be stuck baby-sitting this UP3-freak… He stared at Mirage's jacket that was draped innocently over her seat. He wondered if he could smolder himself to death with it.

"And also – "

"Man, what a square!" Cliff yelled all of a sudden, temporarily shocking Fayt into silence (finally). He turned to regard the teen with a critical eye.

"Look, I hate to break it to you, but we've kinda _made_ contact – rather forcefully anyway."

"Yeah, but still…" Fayt trailed off, glancing up at the ship's monitors to see the crowd of fearful civilians and hostile-looking armored soldiers standing outside. As much as he hated the thought of violating Federation protocol, Cliff did have a point. Besides, a _giant_ ship crashed in the middle of a _city_. That was pretty darn hard to ignore and Fayt seriously doubted life would be the same for these people ever again.

Fayt's frown relaxed. He hummed as he faced Cliff, expression thoughtful.

"What do you think they'd do once we're outside?" Cliff shrugged.

"Eh, probably take us prisoner I guess."

Fayt immediately regretted asking the blonde for his opinion.

"You say it as if you don't really care!"

"You got any better ideas then!?"

"Enough you two, now's not the time to get riled up," said Mirage, ever the voice of sensible reason. Cliff smirked.

"Yeah, Fayt. Shut up."

"That includes you, Cliff."

"What did I do?"

Fayt rolled his eyes. Really? Was this guy supposed to be older than him? He hardly felt safe entrusting his life to him, much less able to bear the thought of sticking with him longer than necessary.

"Anyway," said Cliff, directing his attention at Fayt once again "I have a hunch they won't kill us just yet, so – "

"_Another_ one of your hunches?"

Mirage couldn't agree more. "How about that time we nearly crashed into that asteroid because of a… hunch?"

"Hey, have some faith in your man, would you?" defended Cliff, disappointed by his colleague and charge's responses. Honestly, he wasn't _that_ unreliable… was he? Being the right-hand man of Quark's leader had to account for _something_ right?

"Besides, I made that call and got us out of that scrape back there – he looked at Fayt – didn't I?" Then he turned to Mirage "And that was _one_ time!"

"One time." Fayt repeated, voice laden with doubt. Mirage smiled at him and shook her head, signaling Fayt to drop it and let the man go. Fayt sighed and gave in, again asking himself what choice did he have. He muttered a soft and reluctant, "Fine…"

"What are your orders, Cliff?" said Mirage, turning to face him. Cliff punched a fist into an open palm as he grinned.

"Simple: we get up and get out; but only you and I will leave, kid. With the both of us out, no one would suspect that another one's still inside." He looked at Fayt to ensure the teen was following him, before directing his full attention to his partner.

"Mirage?"

"Yes, Cliff?" she smiled sweetly at him.

"You stay here and wait until nightfall, then leave under the cover of darkness. Go find someplace safe and try to contact the Diplo. If we don't show up after this long, she'd expect a distress signal." Mirage nodded, affirmative, her smile slowly turning into a cheeky grin.

"Need me to come rescue you?" she giggled when Cliff shot her an unamused stare.

"Nah," he waved her off, "that'll be too much of a hassle. We'll find a way to escape somehow, no sweat. You just concentrate on your mission."

"Roger."

During all of this, Fayt remained silent, dubious. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Did Cliff actually expect Mirage, a woman, to fend for herself in such a tight spot, weaponless and on an unfamiliar planet with backdated technology? If things went wrong, the soldiers would be all over her once spotted and it wasn't exactly difficult to spy a blonde head emerging from such a heavily guarded object.

"Well, time to go! You ready, kid?"

"But Mirage – all alone? Cliff I – "

But Cliff was faster, anticipating Fayt's concern.

"Hey, you're forgetting, she's a _Klausian_," he reassured, chuckling. "I pity the guard who'd dare go up against her."

That same sweet smile never left Mirage's face. She flexed her fingers and cracked her knuckles.

"Just so."

* * *

Within the royal castle of Airyglyph and seated along the conference table, the three captains of the respective military branches gathered to await the orders from their king. They were all summoned from their posts; and upon being informed of the latest event which occurred in the main city mere hours ago, were left baffled and momentarily speechless. After all, it wasn't every day that strange objects fell from the sky like stars.

None of the three captains knew what it was for certain, but they were inclined to believe that it hailed from the enemy: Aquaria. However, that speculation was tough to validate, especially since Glyphian troops had invaded that kingdom's borderline town of Arias recently – laid most of it to waste actually – and stumbled upon no such weapon or developments of its production. Nevertheless, it still proved a major cause for concern.

Airyglyph's ruler lifted his gaze to address his three captains.

"Gentlemen, I must thank you for your swift response upon such short notice. But, I'm sure you must agree with me that this matter takes precedence."

Arzei paused to observe his trusted three, all of whom remained silent, no doubt accessing the situation and contemplating the next likely course of action. He turned to his most trusted advisor and Captain of the Storm Brigade, wishing nothing more than for the old count to impart his wisdom upon him. It mattered not if the wise one's explanations expanded merely on theory.

"What say you, Woltar?"

Count Woltar hummed as he folded his hands across the table. In his age, unlike his fellow captains, he wore deep violet robes instead of armor. Snow-white brows upon a face seasoned with age and experience moved into a contemplative frown. The old captain did his best to analyze and organize his points of elucidation. Finally, he cleared his throat and met his king's eyes.

"That I wholly agree, your majesty." He spoke slowly and clearly. "But recent reports from my soldiers indicate two individuals found inside that peculiar mechanism. Judging by the foreign material and style of their clothes, it is logical to conclude that they are from neither Airyglyph nor Aquaria, that I am certain."

Arzei was astounded. "There were people inside that machine?"

Woltar nodded. "Correct: two to be exact – both male. I believe they were piloting it, like how one would fly a dragon or ride a horse… However…" he trailed off as if unconfident. The king stared at him imploringly.

"Woltar, speak, please. You have my word that your theories will face no scorn from my person," Arzei urged to which Woltar relented.

"It is their technology, my lord. It baffles me. Never in all my years of study, have I come across such an astounding construct. Aquarians have never possessed such knowledge and so, I am inclined to wonder if the two strangers are of Aquarian blood or not…"

Seated across from Count Woltar, Duke Vox, Airyglyph's highest ranked official and Captain of the Dragon Brigade, snorted in discontent. Suffice to say, he was unimpressed by his fellow operative's poor excuse of an explanation. Wolatar's words, above all else, lacked conviction expected from the kingdom's most senior militant. Furthermore, the old man had claimed the strangers' weren't from Aquaria – Preposterous! The war between Airyglyph and Aquaria was at its peak. He believed he'd recognize an attempted enemy invasion when he saw one.

To expand on his views, he was well aware that the only kingdom that had access to such sophisticated levels of technology was Greeton. Centuries ago, Aquor and Greeton met in a violent clash that had resulted in permanently severed ties between the two kingdoms. Aquor had fallen to the technological superpower; Greeton's steel humanoid machines of fire defeating them mercilessly. The loss had resulted in the splitting of Aquor into Airyglyph and Aquaria. However, Greeton had closed itself off from the world for centuries, proving that there was no way the strangers could have hailed from there. This only left one more highly improbable possibility and that was the elusive Sanmite Republic.

Even if the members of that nation managed to retain certain technological knowledge of old from Greeton (centuries before the Republic was established, humanoids maintained friendly ties with the Kingdom of Greeton), the Republic too had cut themselves off from the rest of Gaitt ever since Airyglyph and Aquaria went into war. Also, the two strangers were clearly not humanoids.

"Nonsense," Vox declared, "that flying contraption came from the direction of Aquaria's royal city. And who's to say they're not Aquarian spies? Humph, believe me, my lord, we have plenty of those already."

Woltar said not a word, studying the younger yet revered militant. Arzei was gazing at Vox in fascination at his conclusions, and the latter inwardly reveled in his majesty's attentions. Vox then proceeded to comfort his lord's troubled mind and heart.

"Whatever the circumstances may be, the two men are now our prisoners and are being interrogated as we speak. They'd lend us their knowledge and service whether they like it or not. We'd beat them until they squeal." Woltar frowned, a disagreeable expression on his tired, old features.

"The Inquisitor… Hmm… that man seems to enjoy his job a bit too much…"

"You've grown soft, Woltar. Age has made you weak." Vox sneered at him before he turned to regard Arzei with determined eyes. His voice had heightened in steadfast conviction.

"Your majesty, it appears that only I am capable of truly serving you to my full abilities. I will bring glory to this kingdom. I will bring glory to Airyglyph!"

Throughout the discussions, only one out of the four present opted for silence. Albel Nox, Captain of the Black Brigade, did very well to place distance between himself and the current topic of debate. His mind was occupied with a far more pressing yet surprising issue: his informant had reported of a humanoid gone rogue shortly after the strange machine crashed in their city. The individual was reported to have slipped out past Surfeiro borders in the direction of Peterny. However, he chose to retain this bit of information from his so-called king until concrete evidence was found – that is, with the humanoid's capture.

Albel had been banking on something like this to happen for months.

Glyphian troops had reached as far as the border town of Arias, making good work of forcing their enemy into a tight spot. Unfortunately, those pious fools fought back with their damned _Runology_, resulting in a temporary retreat. Sure, his kingdom still held an advantage in this war, but it was dragging on _far_ too long for his liking. Why couldn't those weaklings just give in and save him and his men the hassle of slaughtering them all the time? After all, it was much easier to kill the submissive. It didn't waste time and it proved a far quieter process.

But now, things could speed up significantly if he could determine his informant's words…

Humanoids possessed mysterious and natural abilities that differentiated them from others, even from the few Aquarians who could use Runology. They drew their power from nature, having different specializations from such a boundless and infinite source (unlike those runes, which had to be inscribed into Aquarian skin for anything to work). Most importantly, _all_ humanoids had these skills, making them beneficial, albeit unpredictable allies. If he could get his hands on the rogue humanoid and use him to … _persuade_ the Republic representatives on their side, Aquaria would fall and he could finally relax and drink his sake.

Albel's seething gaze would occasionally turn towards Duke Vox whenever that arrogant idiot suggested some unnecessarily complicated battle strategy. A respected figure, authoritative and formidable throughout the lands, sure, but Duke Vox was nothing like the late Glou Nox: ex-captain of the Dragon Brigade, superb swordsman and tactician, and also his father.

Albel lowered his gaze to glare resentfully at the layers of metal that fully encased his left arm, the light catching off the claw gauntlet whenever he angled it appropriately. If only he had been stronger, then his father would –

_Bah!_ He sickened himself with his sentimentality.

Indeed, Glou Nox had been superb, better than anything this imprudent warmonger could ever live to be. Vox cared not for the well-being of his people or for his subordinates for that matter – not that Albel was anything different – but merely did everything in the pursuit of recognition and immortalizing his name in glory. Vox _lived_ for war. Albel on the other hand, felt that this war, this entire conquest itself, was utterly pointless. Vox was only pushing and pushing for all-out dominance in show of his power, to make a statement.

He loathed that man: nothing but a despicable worm.

"What are your views on this matter, Albel? I will like to hear from you," said Woltar all of a sudden, directing his gaze to the youngest member of the group.

Vermillion eyes shifted, his grip on his katana tensed. His patience was wearing thin, especially towards the old Woltar. The Storm Brigade captain may be his guardian, but that didn't mean he had to like him. He **did not** want to be here or remain here any longer. Why couldn't everyone just **shut up** and move on? Oh well, might as well add in his two cents. He smirked as he rested his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his hands as he did so.

"If they're the enemy, we kill them. If not, we dispose of them. Simple."

Woltar sighed loudly and shook his head. It seemed that the boy – now a man of 24 years – had yet to change, constantly lingering in the fog of hatred and spite. He remembered that inquisitive little boy who would always run up to him and take his hand, grins all around, and wondered where that child had gone. Sometimes, more often lately, Woltar wished Glou were still around. Things would be a whole lot more… peaceful.

He faced his charge and spoke, "If only things were as simple as you say, Albel."

"Oh, but they are, old fool," Albel spat. "Everyone's just too _blind_ – he shot a glare at Vox – to see it."

"Sir Albel, I will not have you disrespecting Duke Vox," Arzei commanded, rising from his seat.

"If you have nothing useful to add to our discussion, then please leave." Albel snorted contemptuously.

"Gladly."

The young captain rose from his position and without so much as a bow or dismissal of respect left the royal conference chambers, slamming the large mahogany doors shut behind him. Arzei shook his head in disappointment and addressed his advisor.

"Woltar, it will do you good to control your boy better." Said man leaned back against his chair.

"Sire, Albel is not a boy anymore and he has certainly more than proved his worth as master-swordsman and military commander. Besides… "Woltar trailed off sadly with a sigh.

"The only one who is able to control him died 11 years ago."

* * *

"Lady Nel, look at this!"

Said woman accepted the metallic piece offered by her subordinate, turning it this way and that. The longer she gazed at the intricate circuitry and felt its light-weight, the larger her eyes widened. This… this was _astounding_. To think such material, such possibilities existed; the insights they could offer in the development stage of their secret weapon – she knew she had to get those strange pilots on their side. She couldn't let Airyglyph have them.

"Nice work, Tynave."

"Ma'am." The handsome woman with short, unruly orange hair saluted. "Oh, and Farleen has gone to hand the second fragment to the Holy Mother. She should be back soon with a wagon."

Nel nodded in acknowledgement. With narrowed eyes she surveyed her surroundings. They were currently standing beyond the stone walls of Airyglyph's kingdom amidst the falling snow. Nel looked to her subordinate, the beautiful brawn of their little group of three.

"I'm going now. If I'm not out in 20 minutes, leave me behind and withdraw."

"But how do you plan on entering the castle? I highly doubt those Glyphian soldiers will simply let you walk right in." Nel frowned and pondered over Tynave's words.

"I'll sneak into the castle dungeons via the Aqueducts and get those men out the same way. Remember: 20 minutes, or our mission is compromised."

"Understood," Tynave replied, but suddenly recalled something and stopped Nel in her tracks.

"Lady Nel, wait. A spy was sent to relay an important message to you, but we've yet to hear from her since." Nel said nothing, but the cool indifference of her stance betrayed the sorrow in her eyes.

"Was the message inscribed?" she clarified.

"I believe so."

"Good. Then the body will be along the way."

Tynave placed a hand over her heart.

"Good luck, ma'am. May the grace of Apris be with you."

Nel returned those wishes before dashing off, heart and mind hardened by duty. There was no room for failure. To fail was to fail her Queen and her people. To fail was to lose the war and the souls of all those sacrificed. And to fail was to hand over an entire kingdom to the hands of Airyglyph's cruel tyranny.

Aquaria was painfully outnumbered, outmatched and alone on this. Their mutual alliance with the Sanmite Republic had come to a close: no help awaited them there. Everything fell on the success of this mission. It was all on her, or nothing.

* * *

Albel stormed down the castle corridors, the rigid ferocity of his posture effectively discouraging hopeful, love-struck young maids from crossing his path. A brave brunette had tried her luck, stopping in front of him to attempt a coy smile with her doe eyes, only lose her confidence altogether after a cold and menacing, "_Move."_ If the wrench hadn't been the king's servant, he would have slit her throat as soon as she dared to obstruct him from his business. The poor maid scurried away as Albel's mood grew darker. _Honestly – _he **wasn't **interested. Even if many of these girls (and boys) wouldn't so much as hesitate to throw themselves on him _and_ on his bed, the answer was still **no. **

Oh, Albel knew he was attractive; he didn't need dozens of willing virgins or whores offering to 'warm his bed' on 'cold wintry nights' to tell him that. He had a good pair of eyes in his skull and a mirror in his room; he did _not_ need their disgusting mewling to convey what was right in front of his own face. Besides, their overconfidence and ignorant stupidity was enough to bury any sort of interest he might have had in any one of them.

Albel wasn't a fool; he knew that his position as the Black Brigade Captain and his youth would attract a pool of hopeful suitors who wished to better their status in society. However, if he, _Albel the Wicked,_ possessed the mercilessness and impassivity to slaughter hundreds of both men _and_ women, no matter how innocent or good-looking they might have been, what made any of these _stupid_ insects think they stood even the slightest bit of a chance?

_Bah_, as if the discussions back in the conference chamber hadn't pissed him off enough.

It would be better for everyone if he weren't there anyway. Otherwise, he wasn't so sure if he could answer to the accusation of three assassination attempts. Besides, discussing political issues had never been his forte, mainly because the entire matter was rather dull and bothersome, not to mention he paled in comparison to the wisdom of old men.

Albel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Perhaps being the youngest captain of one of Airyglyph's military units had its drawbacks. God forbid if he started to sound like Woltar one day: old, slow and wrinkly like a potato.

The swords-master entertained that last though a little longer as he continued his journey down the halls and up a flight of stairs. He allowed his feet to lead him back to his sleeping quarters, already so used to the twists and turns of the castle corridors. As he took long and quick strides past the dungeons, the Black Brigade captain could hear the distant whipping of rough leather against flesh. The inquisitor's sadistic laughter and his victim's pained gasps pervaded the air, yet Albel walked on, those torturous sounds falling upon ears that had grown much too accustomed to screams. He scaled yet another flight of stairs.

The pains and cries of humanity did not concern him. Besides, if those two foreign captives happened to be real spies, then all the more they should suffer. The enemy had to be annihilated: no exceptions. In fact, he himself had made quick work of another Aquarian spy just this morning. He had been thoroughly bored after breakfast and Woltar's prattling had grated his nerves, so he thought he'd go amuse himself by witnessing that spy's interrogation under the hands of Airyplyh's infamous Inquisitor. Previously, Woltar had berated him for killing too many Aquarians during the Arias rampage ("If too many are slain, what more will be left under eventual Glyphian rule?" he had said) and that _really_ pissed him off. _No one_ told him what to do. So he took his anger out on the woman by further torturing her into talking. In fact, he didn't even bother asking any questions. He had simply grabbed some daggers, heated them up, and figured she was probably smart enough to get the message.

However, Aquarians were stupidly devoted to their so-called _god_ and she had remained silent to the death. Suffice to say, Albel had been disappointed; he preferred his victims to beg for their lives at the very least. The silent ones were no fun at all. It had been a complete waste of a good morning.

Then, the king just had to demand his presence in the conference chamber, which did nothing to soothe his anger, if not making it worse. Even now, nestled comfortably in his quarters and downing saucer after saucer of warm sake, Albel was still fuming.

The old fools were wasting their time prattling away over something that already happened and knew nothing of. It wasn't like they needed technological assistance to defeat the enemy – they already held a significant advantage over them. If he were king, he would have seized the opportunity offered by this foreign distraction, and lay claim to Aquaria once and for all. Besides, the longer they sat around and remained complacent, the more Aquarian spies would start filling up the vicinities of their kingdom. Like right now, it didn't take a genius to figure out that there was probably another Crimson Blade assassin on the prowl…

As the sweetly brewed alcohol burned a gratifying trail down his throat, Albel decided to brush that matter aside. No point worrying over unnecessary claptrap. He had more important, personal matters to deal with. He knew he was going behind his superiors' and king's back on this, but if everything worked out in his favour, he figured a little coercion wouldn't hurt… much. He opened the door and made a grab for guard stationed outside his room. Albel pulled him up close by the collar, seething down at the frightened man.

"You will relay a message to my second-in-command at the Kirlsa Training Facility," Albel hissed as if he were addressing something disgusting.

"I am leaving Airyglyph to see to other duties. In the meantime, tell that good-for-nothing Shelby to assume responsibility until I return. Oh, and one more thing – " he slammed the unsuspecting, stuttering guard against a nearby wall. The claws of his gauntlet hovered dangerously over his jugular.

"Keep my leave of absence confidential. This goes for Shelby as well. If word gets out, I'll kill you. _Both_ _of you._"

Albel released the low-rank soldier who hurried off and then returned to his room to prepare for his upcoming meeting with his informant. The mere thought of leaving the royal city calmed him down significantly. Once he was done with all the necessary preparations, he grabbed the half-empty bottle of sake and moved towards the large window, throwing it open.

Snow continued to descend steadily upon the lands of Airyglyph, freezing pavements and framing windowpanes. As he exhaled, white puffs of vapour escaped the confines of his mouth. The climate was like this all year round; not even the warmth of fireplaces could compensate for the loss of body heat, nor could wrapping oneself in layers upon layers of blankets provide temporary salvation. But, the cold no longer bothered him.

He could see the wrecked, half-buried machine from where he stood and an annoyed scowl crossed his lips. Part of him hoped that the prisoners wouldn't perish under the inquisitor's hands – things had started to become quite interesting upon their arrival – but a bigger part of him hoped they'd beg and grovel to be spared, only to have that wish denied soon after. A conflict between a reprieve from boredom and his favourite hobby – hmm… tough choice.

Albel raised the bottle of sake to his lips, but lowered it immediately, wincing in discomfort. He glared at his gauntlet in annoyance. His arm was starting to hurt again. He grudgingly began to undo a few latches before gently slipping the metal off, hissing as the edges grazed over bandaged flesh. How long had it been? Nine years? 10 maybe? Well, whatever the time frame may be, he knew one thing and one thing alone: it wasn't so much of the physical discomfort that gnawed at his being, but the twinge of guilt hammering relentlessly on his soul.

Albel stared at the bandages wrapped around his arm, the once white bindings turning slightly yellow from lack of care. It had been a week since he last changed them. Oh how he hated to carry out this tedious process: probably because two hands to accomplish such a task would prove to be a whole lot more convenient.

His line of vision met charred, raw flesh as he slowly began to undo the wrapping and a flicker of unguarded emotion fleeted past his vermillion gaze. He paused in his task, overcome with a sudden wave of melancholy. He traced a finger over the incomplete and distorted "Mark of the Dragon" amidst uneven, ruined skin. His heart clenched at the reminder of his incompetency, his father's sacrifice.

"Father, how's it like down there?" He whispered softly, almost lost.

"Is it warmer there than it is here?"

But his broodings were cut short when the old wound's putrid stench penetrated his nostrils and he quickly wrapped it up as fast as he could manage. Damn this draconic curse. Would he seriously have to bear this burden all the way to his grave?

Albel downed his last bit of sake in a single gulp before tossing the bottle across the room. The object shattered against the cold stonewalls, the impact reducing it to thousands of porcelain fragments.

Albel never reacted to that, or anything for that matter. It was only the weak that embraced sentiment and fear, and it was that one moment of weakness that had cost him everything. But that young boy grew up and had channelled all his anger, all his remorse into a profession that demanded of him a very specific skill set. He had killed so many that he had lost count, terrorized the innocent until he could no longer justify his own cause, and earned a glorious reputation for all the wrong reasons. He knew he had become a monster, dubbed "Albel the Wicked" by enemy and ally alike; but he was in it too deep, hatred burnt into his core. It was so hard to forgive and forget: to live and let live.

* * *

"Uh… where… urgh, my head…" Fayt groaned as he slowly came to.

He tried to move, but the stinging bite of the leather restraints around his wrists reminded him of his current situation. He surprised himself that he managed to remain in one piece, much less survive that terrible interrogation he had been put through. He had thought all these were only in stories or movies, but _damn_ it was frightfully and painfully real. Fayt counted himself lucky that the sadistic Inquisitor had only used a whip instead of the other sharp, painful-looking torture instruments that hung on the walls.

Sure, he had mentally braced himself for some questioning, a punch and kick here and there maybe, but not a continuous combination of the two along with the relentless whipping of his skin!

As he waited for his vision to clear and catch up to the world of the conscious, he took his time to access his place of confinement: numerous cracks streaked across the mouldy stone floors and moss-covered walls, those thin black lines running up and all over the ceiling; foul-smelling liquid dribbled and oozed out from holes in the walls, leaving a murky, brownish-green trail behind. Fayt wrinkled his nose in disgust. He was practically rolling in the remnants of sewage.

Across from where he lay stood a pathetic excuse of a bed, the frame having rusted from the prison's damp air. The corners were piled with skeletons of previous convicts, one of them more fresh compared to the rest: flies buzzed about its skull and maggots crawled out of the eye sockets.

Fayt didn't even want to think what resided underneath the bed.

After many painful and gruelling attempts, he finally managed to sit up and when he looked down his front, he felt all colour drain from his face. The guards had been… kind enough he supposed, to throw his shirt back on for him, but the white material was soaked with blood – _his blood._ He shifted and bit back a few screams. It didn't take him long to realise the deep gashes caused by the whip were still open and raw.

'Great,' he grimaced. If no one tended to them soon, they'd definitely get infected (if they weren't already) and the pain would only increase ten-fold. Then he'd be infected by some underdeveloped planet disease and die here in complete agony because of Cliff's _stupid hunch._

"Oh, you're awake." Fayt slowly turned to address the gruff speaker, only to sigh and look away soon after. Speak of the devil.

"Yo what's with the attitude? Not happy to see me?"

"You could say that," Fayt mumbled.

'So it hadn't been a dream after all…' he thought miserably.

"Do you think Mirage got away safely?" asked Fayt, dropping his voice into a whisper. Cliff chuckled.

"_You_ need to learn how to chill out. I told you, she's a Klausian. You just have to believe in that woman a bit more. She can hold her own ground – "

"Mom… dad… Sophia…"

Cliff paused and turned to stare at the blue haired boy who had lowered his head, shielding his face from sight. The Klausian respected the kid's space and didn't pry about his tears. All this was probably too much for the boy to handle, and Cliff felt absolutely _fucked_ that he couldn't divulge more than his mission permitted.

"… I promise you, we'll go rescue your old man. You'll see your mom and that girl again too. We just have to get you to Quark's leader first and – "

"_What the hell does Quark have anything to do with all this!?"_

Cliff could do nothing but remain silent, as Fayt underwent his first mental breakdown. A moment passed, then Cliff tried again.

"You done?" his expression softened however, as soon as he caught sight of the dejected look from his charge's face. Cliff shook his head. Damn, he wasn't good with this sort of thing.

"Look, I'm sorry – "

"It's ok, it's not your fault. You don't know any more than what you've told me anyway," Fayt whispered, a slight smile on his face. "Plus you're not very good at this, are you?"

"Was I that obvious?" Fayt laughed.

"Transparently."

The two settled into a comfortable silence, or as comfortable as their prison cell allowed. Fayt had no idea how long they'd been in here, or how long more they had to wait it out, but he didn't dare ask Cliff in case the guards outside overheard them. He just prayed that Cliff had a plan on getting them out of here.

"That Inquisitor sure did a number on you," the blonde remarked as he took in the sight of the younger's bloodstained shirt. "If you don't dress them quickly, they're going to get infected."

Fayt shrugged. "It's not like we can do anything about it, all tied up like this. And I doubt these people would send in a doctor after what they put us through… Oh there _is_ one thing…" he trailed off, suddenly remembering something.

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"The Inquisitor kept mentioning the word 'Aquaria'. What do you think that's all about?" he asked Cliff, troubled. The man only shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Beats me. That guy hit like a girl. I got so bored I fell asleep. Probably pissed him off so much, he went harder on you."

Fayt stared at him, stupefied. Could you seriously believe this guy? There he was sitting miserably on the dirty prison floor recovering from the effects of getting his skin ripped open and screaming his lungs out, and Cliff _fell asleep?_ The guy was probably trying to cheer him up or something, but he apparently wasn't very good at that either.

"Shut up! I'm serious!"

"All right, all right, sheesh…" Cliff adverted his gaze guiltily before adopting a more solemn tone. Fayt said a silent thank-you to the gods that his supposed bodyguard had the capacity to be serious when he wanted to.

"Aquaria, huh? That's probably the country that's at war with this one here – Airyglyph, or something. Looks like we raised quite the international hoo-ha with the Eagle's landing."

"You could say that again," murmured Fayt as he fixed the older with a hopeful stare. "What about you? Did you manage to find out anything?"

"As a matter of fact, I did!" Cliff proclaimed proudly, a large smirk on his face. Fayt's eyes shone with surprise and interest.

"And…?"

"The whips on this planet hurt too!"

The blonde's words crashed down on Fayt like a tombstone and he had to resist kicking the guy senseless. Instead, he went for the good old eye-roll, which he discovered to be doing more and more often when it came to Cliff.

"Oh _ha-ha._ Very funny…"

"One more thing I learnt: these restraints are pretty solid." Cliff wrestled against them to prove his point. "_Damn_! They're too tight! I can't move at all!"

As Fayt watched him struggle, he was at a loss of what to feel: insulted that the Klausian actually ignored his comment altogether, or the sheer horror that he was doomed with a guy who had an IQ level equivalent to that of a pea.

"Erm, that's why they're called 'restraints'?" he offered helpfully. Cliff shushed him.

"Save me the semantics, kid." He was glaring at something in the distance. "I think we're about to get our butts rescued."

As if on cue, the sound of hard metal hitting solid stone echoed off the walls of Airyglyph's prison as the guards fell to the floor, unconscious. A curious woman with crimson hair stood amongst the fallen forms, her stance confident with her hands perched casually on her hips. Her hair was in a simple bobbed style and she wore a strange kind of get-up: a black and blue stripped scarf around her neck, a rather suggestive and revealing black battle garb complete with a binder around her waist, matching knee-length boots, and had a curved dagger strapped to her side. The outfit ended in a mini-skirt that ended well-above mid-thigh and had a long split up the left side showing off, what Fayt felt, was more than necessary for any woman, and what would undoubtedly make any guy's imagination run wild – not that it included himself. He wasn't a pervert or anything, but he noticed a chain of intriguing red symbols inscribed into the flesh of her legs and the high split of her skirt gave him a _much_ better view of all that – er, **tattoos.**

'Why do I get the feeling that I've seen them before?' Fayt pondered.

Cliff was looking at them too, although Fayt speculated that his thoughts were going off in a different direction. After all, the blonde had this dazed look in his eyes… Fayt shook his head and nudged his partner, snapping the guy out of whatever R-rated fantasy he was indulging in.

"Who is she?" he whispered, suspicious.

For all he knew, the woman could be a trap sent by their torturers to get them to leak out some important information when their guard was down, like a spy of sorts. In Fayt's eyes, she was a threat, what with her ability to knock out three guards without them even noticing her presence… no matter how hot or sexy she happened to be.

Cliff had a dopey smile on his face.

"Friend or foe, I don't know, but if it's about escaping, I'll take my chances."

He approached the cell doors and being the brash, impulsive and painfully direct personality that he was, went, "Yo. Listen, my friend and I are kind of in a tight spot here, so if you could just – " Cliff stopped himself, perturbed.

The red head didn't even acknowledge his presence, or Fayt's for that matter, but at the same time, her silent disposition seemed to be addressing them in its indirection. It was a weird logic in that sense. The woman crossed her arms, her body language shifting from cool indifference to determination. Her violent eyes met the men in a harsh stare.

"You have two options: accept my conditions and live, or refuse and die here. It's your choice."

Fayt's mouth fell open in shock. "And what kind of options are those – "

"What exactly are your conditions?" Cliff butted in; having eyes only for the beautiful red head while Fayt shot him a murderous glare. _Why_ was the idiot humouring her?

"We want your technology," was her simple answer.

"Our technology?" he echoed while she proceeded to explain her motives.

"That's right. Our people plan to use this technology to end the war raging between this land and ours, with our side emerging victorious of course." There was a hint of arrogance in her tone, one that showed through the slight upward quirk of her pink lips.

"So… you're not from around here? Where are you from?" Cliff prodded, mentally trying to piece together this planet's level of politics.

The woman on the other hand, appeared sincerely surprised by his question. In fact, her posture even seemed to relax a little.

"Why, no. I'm not from Airyglyph. I'm from the royal city of Aquios, capital of the Kingdom Aquaria, just southwards of here." It was her turn to be suspicious. "I thought that would've been obvious from my arrival."

Cliff shook his head good-naturedly and shot her an appeasing grin.

"Nah, just checking. Was worried you were sent down here by those crazies up there to try something funny on us." That earned him an amused smirk from the female.

"As much as I appreciate a man who exercises caution, my question still stands: will you cooperate?"

Before Cliff could open his mouth and respond to that, Fayt had beat him to the catch and unfortunately, wasn't exactly the best negotiator for the job. When the boy raved on about wanting 'no part in this war' and in turn started questioning the woman's sanity – or lack of it – Cliff would have buried his face in his hands in shame if they hadn't been tied to his back. He was beginning to wonder why the Inquisitor hadn't gagged Fayt while he was at it, or why he himself didn't think of knocking the kid out with a head-butt earlier on. Even the woman's insane level of patience seemed to be at its wit's end if the little twitches of annoyance on her face counted for anything.

"So I take it you _don't_ wish to cooperate?" she raised her voice a little, crossing her arms. Nevertheless, she tried to appease to the boy's senses.

"I can understand your reluctance to be involved, but you can't possibly expect me to believe that you actually _like_ it here. Also, I don't think you two have any particular loyalty to Airygyph – she indicated at their wounds and bruises – so why not help us?"

When Fayt looked like he was ready to protest again, Cliff immediately inserted himself between the boy and the bars. He offered the red head an apologetic stare.

"Give us a second, would you?" She indicated her consent and stepped back. "Thanks." He then faced Fayt and ushered him towards the far end of the cell out of possible eavesdropping range. There, they initiated their discussion.

"You, shut up."

"But – "

"Look, kid," admonished Cliff, "we don't exactly have a lot of options. You want to see your old man again, right?"

Fayt eyed Cliff, uncertain. "Well, yeah, but…"

Cliff wasn't one to be thrown off by petty indecision. In fact, he decided to put a little more force in his statement. "What I'm saying is, we don't have much time and sitting around here isn't going to help us accomplish anything. You with me so far?"

Fayt nodded after much reluctance. Cliff brightened as he realised he was finally going somewhere with this.

"So what I'm saying _right now_ is if we're going to get rescued, it might as well be that hot chick over there, get what I mean?"

"But I don't – "

"Do I need to spell it out for you? That _babe's_ our ticket out of this joint!" he lowered his voice into a whisper. "Besides, when we do get out, we might be able to make a break for it instead of getting ourselves mixed up in their politics."

Fayt shut his eyes, weighing his options. Cliff hadn't been more accurate about their situation. On one hand, he really didn't mind accepting this strange lady's assistance if it meant being free from this disgusting, foul-smelling hellhole. But on the other hand, he didn't want to be further mixed up with the matters of this planet. Sure he was one to keep deals, but he'd rather not violate the UP3, despite how much they technically "violated" it already. He sighed; for once, they agreed on the same thing.

"Alright." Fayt complied, turning around to face his partner who grinned.

"'Atta boy. Just let me do the talking from now on, you hear?"

"Fine…"

They approached the bars of their cell once more to regard the red head. It was Cliff who spoke first.

"Okay, we'll loan you our technology." The woman raised an eyebrow in question. That had been… way too easy. She had to stop her hand from involuntarily travelling to her dagger in case she shattered whatever strange diplomacy the three of them had just forged.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she said all of a sudden, giving them a critical stare. "You're not planning on running away, are you? Because if you are, I'd kill you."

That statement caused the two men to visibly freeze up, Cliff inwardly cursing their misfortune and the woman's keen perception. Perhaps things weren't going to be as easy as he originally hoped.

"Hey, she heard us," Fayt whispered to him in surprise. It unnerved him slightly when Cliff went uncharacteristically silent.

The red head smirked at the astonished blonde, staring at him through narrowed eyes, which held the slightest hint of mischief. Her hands were back on her hips as she continued to stare at Cliff whose expression had shifted into an impressed smile.

"And I appreciate you calling me hot, but 'chick' I can live without."

Cliff chuckled. "Sca-ree…"

Her smirk melted into a charming smile, one that she herself didn't quite understand where it came from. "I'm Nel Zelpher by the way." And she quickly added as an afterthought, "Leader of the Secret Legion and Personal guard to Her majesty of Aquaria."

"Cliff Fittir, but you can just call me Cliff."

"Charmed."

Fayt watched their exchange, eyes darting back and forth between the two adults in growing frustration. When it became apparent that Cliff had _completely_ forgotten about him and wasn't going to make the effort to introduce him whatsoever, Fayt performed a full, perfect eye-roll. Now was _not_ the time to make goo-goo eyes with strangers. He took the liberty of physically inserting himself between them.

"And I'm Fayt Leingod. So can you get us out?"

His question seemed to snap Nel back into action.

"Then I take it we have a deal?" They nodded.

"Then step away from the bars," she instructed firmly and placed her hand over the prison locks. A mysterious purple glow gathered at her palm, before dispersing into a circle of symbols – symbols that evidently resembled the ones etched onto her thighs – that shattered the locks and forced the doors open. She stepped back once the deed was done.

"You're free."

Fayt and Cliff's jaws fell open in alarm. Out of all methods one could pull, neither of them expected to be saved _that _way_…_ whatever _that_ was. Fayt found himself once again hovering over his highly speculative thoughts. That skill Nel had just performed… and her tattoos… why did it seem to ring a bell so incessantly in his cranium?

"Want me to get that for you?"

"Huh?" It was then that he realised he had spaced out again and Nel was talking to him, indicating at his restraints. He noticed Cliff already had his taken off and was relishing in the feel of his hands and fingers again.

"O-Oh yeah, thanks." Nel moved behind him and the fact that he suddenly couldn't see her made him feel nervous. She unsheathed her dagger.

"Don't move."

In a few quick slashes, Fayt was free and he gratefully rotated his wrists to get the blood back into his fingers. He was about to thank Nel, but looked up and realised that she had disappeared. A quick survey of his surroundings though confirmed that that hadn't been the case; the red head merely wandered into a neighbouring cell. Fayt and Cliff exchanged curious stares, but followed her inside nevertheless. However, the sight that greeted them made Fayt wish he hadn't given into his curiosity and stayed outside.

There was a body on the ground, barely clothed and lying in a cold, slightly coagulated pool of blood. The uniform, which resembled Nel's, was brutally shredded at specific areas, exposing – from what Nel could see – vital points of the human anatomy that would produce the most pain to the body if inflicted. The body was lying facedown and when Nel grabbed the corpse's shoulder and turned it around, she was met by a grotesque allusion of what she believed to be the face of a loyal informant. Not only its body but its face was rendered unrecognisable: parts of the flesh on the cheeks had been pulled apart, exposing the muscle beneath; lips had been sealed shut by an array of needles; and the eyes had been gorged out; a dagger was lodged at the centre of the forehead, probably in a final bid to quell the victim's agony and severe the threads of life.

Cliff suppressed a shudder and looked away, clearly disturbed – not just by the sight of the corpse, but at Nel's seeming indifference. Fayt on the other hand, wasn't holding up as well, dry-heaving on the floor next to where he stood.

Nel bowed her head and whispered a prayer of deliverance. She stroked her ex-informant's hair matted in blood, before completely slicing off whatever remained of the dead woman's clothing. Cliff's eyes widened, clearly not expected that, while Fayt – who had chosen the wrong time to look up – blushed profusely and looked away.

Nel took her time examining the body, until her eyes found the very thing she had been searching for. To any Glyphian soldier, the red markings on the body's inner thighs would look like the inscriptions of Aquarian runes, but these ones were different and were a coded message: a message that was meant to be delivered to her by word… not like this. She pulled away and covered the body with an old blanket from the nearby bed.

It was time to go. She got what she came for.

"Who was that?" asked Cliff, surprising himself with his gentleness.

Nel kept her eyes on the covered body as she spoke, "My informant – one of my best. Airyglyph **will pay**_**.**_" The promise of blood and vengeance in her voice made Cliff shudder.

"D-Did… the Inquisitor…?" was all Fayt managed as soon as he collected himself, relieved that the carnage was no longer in plain sight.

"No," replied Nel with a resolute shake of her head. "There is only one man who could have done such a thing – for necessity, for fun, for pleasure… But this… He had been bored."

Fayt gazed at her in horror. _Bored?_ Boredom had reduced that woman to that – that monstrous condition? He didn't care _who_ 'that man' was, but to think Cliff and him were still _alive_ seemed nothing short of a miracle. Suddenly, he didn't feel his session with the Inquisitor had been so bad after all.

Fayt and Cliff followed Nel in silence, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily on them. They stopped beneath a ventilation shaft and Nel turned to address them with calm dignity that betrayed her emotions.

"We'll get out from here. That vent leads to the Airyglyph Aqueducts. It's a tight fit, but it widens out a bit. Once we get through there, we'll be in the city. My subordinates are waiting for us with our ride." She paused and placed a comforting hand on Fayt's shoulder.

"Are you alright? You're in shock." she said with a kind gentleness that neither man expected her to possess. So taken by this change that Fayt could only nod mutely in spite of his fear. That seemed enough for Nel though and she was back to her usual no-nonsense mode.

"Good. Fayt, you go first and then Cliff. I'll bring up the rear."

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Albel amuses me. Also, is that a Cliff/Nel pairing I see?

... Honestly, I don't know how my pairings just come about like that. But it makes for a little surprise here and there, no?

As usual, read and review!


	5. In Our Darkest Hour, We Pray

**Author's note:**

This chapter came out a lot slower than I intended for it (like one entire chapter slow). Seriously, I plotted everything for chapter 5, but majority of what I plotted will only appear in the following update. I guess I really can't stick to a plan when I write for Star Ocean. There's way too many feels and shit going on.

On other news, my exams are finally over. So expect even more frequent updates, or... updates in general, seeing as I update just as frequently exam or no exam. Huh.

* * *

**The Stars Told Me So**

**by Dark Interval**

**Chapter 5: In Our Darkest Hour, We Pray**

* * *

Roger murmured adorably in his sleep and rolled over, burying his face into the downy comforts of his soft, white pillow. His tiny fingers clung onto the sheets as he snuggled against the comforter, relishing in its warmth. Another string of sleepy gibberish passed through his lips. For a moment he simply laid there, utterly relaxed and unmoving, sprawled out in typical starfish position across the bed… until realization finally kicked that this _**wasn't**_ his scent on the pillow and this _**wasn't**_ his bed.

Roger shot up in a haphazard daze; and in his apparent disarray, had unfortunately ended up entangling himself in the blanket. The desperate need to dislodge himself from the cotton monster however, resulted in him landing unceremoniously on the hard bedroom floor with a loud '_thump!'_

"… _Ow." _

He groaned miserably as he cradled his poor little head in his hands. When he opened his eyes, his vision swam and tilted violently. That… hadn't been the best way to wakeup – _why was everything moving ?_

He remained seated on the floor, blanket wrapped tightly around him like a makeshift igloo. It was in such a position where Roger desperately tried to calm his frantically beating heart down. Initially, he assumed his escape the previous night had all been a dream and he was still in his bedroom in Surfeiro; but when his nose twitched at the memory of the unfamiliar scent he inhaled from the pillow; the Menodix knew that hadn't been the case.

It was ironic how he dreaded the thought of home compared to his impending tedious journey. Somehow, the earlier thought had frightened him far worse than the idea of him being held captive against his will in an unfamiliar territory… OK, _maybe_ 'held captive' was pushing it a little too far (what kind of kidnapper ensured their hostage had a soft, comfy bed to sleep on anyway?), but he still had no idea where he was, dagnabbit!

"I'm… still in Peterny, right?" he wondered out loud.

The little humanoid racked his brain for a possible explanation, but all that came up was the memory of him settling down upon the steps of the Peterny Church for the night since he hadn't cash for a room in the town's inn. He figured that hadn't been the best of his ideas up to date, but he didn't think it would be _illegal_…

Maybe that's where he was: the town authorities must have seized him and brought him to their headquarters for questioning! … What would he say? What would he tell them? They'd probably send him back home once they found out he was only a minor – but he couldn't go back to Surfeiro! He _wouldn't_ go back now that he finally made it out after months of trying! And he needed to look for Nel, see if she was OK. And he needed to get to Airyglyph. And that strange metal thing that landed. And – Roger's eyes widened in dread – what if they found out he was a humanoid and –

"E-Excuse me, are you awake? I – "

"_**I'M NORMAL!"**_

His outburst had frightened the newcomer so much that she nearly dropped the breakfast tray she was carrying. The girl looked to be about 16 – 17 years old, with lovely brown hair that cascaded down her back, and had big round emerald eyes set upon a sweet and delicate face that blossomed with mirth and compassion. Her complexion took to a slight pallor though, and the hollow of her cheeks were sure indications of a decline in health. Even her breaths were shallow. Pity; the brunette would have made a far prettier sight if there had been more color to her cheeks and luster to her lips. Wrapped around her shoulders was a dull brown shawl that looked to have seen better days; the pale pink frock she had on was elegant in its simplicity.

After getting over her initial shock, the young maiden whipped her head around in confusion, unable to locate the source of that vehement exclamation. Then, her wide green eyes landed on the empty (and terribly untidy) bed, which only seemed to grow wider in rising panic. She slammed the breakfast tray on the bedside table and threw herself onto the bed.

"Mr. Kitty? _Mr. Kitty, where are you?"_

Roger didn't know what was worse: the name that the girl used on him, or the bed sheets and pillows she unknowingly threw over him as she practically stripped her bed in a desperate attempt to locate her guest.

He was just about to let this dense girl have a piece of his mind, when the sound of her loud coughing shattered whatever prior resolve he had mustered. Oh, he knew she looked a little sickly to begin with, but those coughs sounded _really_ bad and… the real man in him couldn't help but worry about her, even if she did call him that _embarrassing_ name earlier. He just hoped that whatever illness she was down with wasn't _too _serious…

Besides, she was really pretty!

In a last ditch effort to free himself, Roger called out to her, but all that sounded from beneath the layers of sheets was a soft, "_hmooph!"_

It was enough to get the girl to stop suffocating the kid to death. She peered over the edge of the bed, gaze honing in on a pair of arms flailing pathetically under a mountain of white sheets. She giggled, which only caused the arms to flail faster. Finally taking pity on him, she got off the bed and proceeded to dig him out.

"And how did you end up on the floor, you poor thing," she said gently as she helped Roger onto a chair. The top of his head was the only thing that reached above the table when he sat down completely, so the girl had to gather some cushions to rectify the problem, much to the boy's chagrin.

Out of all the races, Menodixes just _had_ to be the ones blessed with the shortest height…

"Eh heh heh… Just kinda freaked out – the girl shoved another cushion under his butt – and quit fussin' over me, I ain't no baby – and I ain't no 'Mr. Kitty' either!" he finalized in a pout to which his companion laughed at.

Roger couldn't help the slightest upturn of his own lips when he heard that. He realized that he liked the sound of her laughter. It reminded him of the tinkling of a little bell during tranquil summertime – innocent and sweet.

"So what's all this about being 'normal'?" she asked, amused. She had pushed the breakfast tray closer to Roger and sat on the chair opposite him. Roger flushed in embarrassment as he stabbed at the eggs on his plate.

"O-oh… that. Just – I just thought ya' were some kinda… _gah! _Never mind all that – he spooned some eggs into his mouth and swallowed – Ya' won't get it anyway. S'all grown-up… politicky… stuff."

The maiden continued to smile as she pointed at his head in a bid to aid him in his explanation. "Does it have anything to do with those?"

"Does wha' with wha'?" She giggled and continued to point at him.

"You know… _those."_

Roger frowned and tilted his head in confusion; then he followed her line of vision and slowly brought his hands up to his head. His fingers brushed against the soft fur of his ears, which twitched upon contact. The effect was instantaneous: Roger let out a high-pitched squeal and immediately fumbled for the shawl around his waist, only to become thoroughly mortified at the feel of his soft bushy tail instead of coarse cloth. Then, his hands were back on his head, fingers frantically running all over his wild brown tresses in sheer horror of its apparent nakedness.

_Where was his helm?_

"Ah! Don't worry about your things," the brunette hurriedly consoled him. "You looked rather uncomfortable sleeping with them on last night, so I took the liberty of taking them off for you when I found you outside the church."

_Ah,_ so he was right: he had been brought here against his will. Not that he was complaining or anything – the food was _good_. But still, there were some things that remained unanswered, that just didn't seem to add up. Why would a normal girl like his hostess, simply pick him up from the streets in the middle of the night and accommodate him in her house, which was something he was very sure _wasn't_ normal. He believed his confusion and suspicion showed on his face, what with the anxious stare said maiden was giving him as if she were awaiting some merciless onslaught of chastisement. If things had been different, the sight of a young lady being afraid of a small child who couldn't even reach the table top without the aid of four cushions, would have proven quite hilarious.

"Who are 'ya? And why did'ya help me? It couldn't have been about money, right? I mean, if it wasn't obvious enough, I haven't got any 'ta begin with…" The girl shook her head in earnest.

"No, that's not my reason at all! You didn't seem to have a place to go and you were shivering… you're just a young boy for goodness sake! I couldn't just leave you there." She gazed at him with pleading eyes.

"Please... I know it sounds hard to believe, but I had no other intentions other than to simply help you. I – I honestly had _no idea_ you were a humanoid until I took off your little hat thing." She paused to bow in her seat, hoping her explanation hadn't offended; her cheeks were tinted pink.

"A-And… I guess it's only proper you know my name – she straightened with a smile – I'm Ameena Leffeld. I sell flowers in Peterny." Roger titled his head curiously.

"Flowers…?" She nodded her head.

"Yes, I grow them myself in my garden and sell them around town every morning. I used to pick wild ones from the mountains last time, but my health hasn't been very good lately; so I just grow them now." Her eyes met Roger's in a shy glance, her words tentative.

"Your ears… and your tail… are you really from the Sanmite Republic?"

Roger couldn't help but sigh in resignation, his ears flattening against his skull. It seemed that there was no point bothering with a cover story; after all, this girl – _Ameena_ – already knew since last night and he honestly couldn't bring himself to lie to her. She had cared for him, fed him, gave him someplace warm to sleep – her own bed even – and at the very least, she deserved the truth… never mind the problematic consequences that would undoubtedly emerge if word did get out about his presence here. Besides, Ameena was practically harmless and she had been nothing more than an angel to him. Sure, she may be somewhat sickly and a bit of an airhead, but he liked her and felt he could trust her.

"Yup! I'm Roger S. Huxley – _Sir_ Roger, though seeing as you're so pretty, Ameena, Roger will be fine! Also, I'm not a Felinefolk – or 'kitty' as 'ya prefer 'ta call 'em – I'm a Menodix," he announced with pride, folding his arms. "Eh… raccoons, I guess 'ya could say."

He couldn't help the excited swishing of his tail as he talked about his heritage. The Huxley name _did_ have quite the reputation tied to it after all, what with his pops being village chief and one of them Republic minister representatives. Though in the eyes of the tribe elders, he was steadily growing to be a less likely candidate to succeed his pops as Surfeiro's representative, especially with all the trouble he's been getting into and giving his village… _Meh,_ Ameena didn't need to know all those unimportant details.

"I may not look it, but I'm _veeerrryyyy_ important ya' know?" Ameena gave him a bemused grin.

"Is that so? Well then, _Sir_ _Roger_ – she giggled – which village are you in-charge of?" At the boy's hesitant look, she quickly added, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're here. Your secret's safe with me." That seemed enough to reassure him as he launched into his excited babble once again.

"I'm from Surfeiro!" Ameena gasped in awe.

"You mean the _lost city_?"

"Uh huh! The one and only!" The bewilderment on the girl's face was priceless.

"But – but, I thought – I thought it sank centuries ago during the Aquor-Greeton war!" Roger stuck out his tongue playfully.

"Heh heh… Truth is only some of it did, but most of it is still above water. I know 'ya humans don't believe it exists, that ya'll talk about it in your stories; but that's _only_ 'cuz 'ya can't find it. 'Ya need a humanoid to bring 'ya there after all."

"Is it as beautiful as the stories say it is?"

"_Muuucchhhh_ more beautiful."

Ameena's eyes sparkled, having grown so wide that Roger swore they would've sucked out and devoured his soul if not for the table that separated them. The brunette had her hands clasped together and was leaning forward eagerly, while he made the slightest effort to lean back, wanting to put some distance between them but not wishing to offend her at the same time. He could understand her excitement and fascination; it was almost akin to a fairytale existing outside one's fantasies after all – but that didn't make her reaction any less disconcerting. He held up a hand to stop her mind from wandering any further.

"Now wait jus' a second," he said nervously "y-ya' know I can't _take_ 'ya there, right? At least… not now anyway…" he trailed off awkwardly, feeling somewhat bad that he had caused the girl's smile to falter. Ameena's shoulders practically slumped as she lowered her eyes in disappointment.

"Oh. It's because of the war, isn't it? The Republic's policy… I - I can't believe I forgot about that… I feel like such an idiot." Her lower lip began to tremble and her breaths came out shallow.

Tears began to gather in her eyes and her breathing grew harsher, as if she was willing herself not to cry. Unfortunately, she wasn't very convincing in oppressing her emotions, not if the startled and worried Menodix in front of her accounted for anything. Roger hurriedly shot forward and grabbed her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze – something his mama always did whenever he was upset and felt too embarrassed to ask for a hug. One thing he couldn't bear to see was a girl crying, worse still if he had been the cause of it.

"H-Hey, why are 'ya crying? Don't cry… You – you're not an idiot, OK? I'm sorry if I said something wrong… Just say the word and I'll make it up 'ta 'ya, honest I will!" Ameena sniffed and shook her head, squeezing his hand in return.

"N-No, it's nothing like that. You didn't say anything wrong - just… It's just this war…" she trailed off with a forlorn sigh.

"My parents… they d-died during the war: they were falsely accused for something and were e-e-executed– she wiped at her tears with the back of her sleeve – T-Then I m-moved down to Peterny because the doctors said the warmer climate here would do my health good. I've been living here alone ever since." Roger gazed at her in concern.

"You're sick?" he asked. Ameena adverted her eyes, her frail fingers playing with the ends of her shawl.

"My health has always been poor ever since I was a child. It was never easy to afford the medical fees before the war, but…" she trailed off in a whisper "it's even harder right now."

The Menodix remained silent throughout Ameena's story, feeling foolish and ashamed regarding his impulsive actions. Here he was, a boy with a family and home that he could always count on and return to but chose to abandon, while this amazing girl had lost everything, struggling to survive in this world every single day, all by herself. Now that he thought about it, the house they were currently in did appear rather shabby and run-down… and to think she offered him what little she already had out of the mere kindness of her heart.

Perhaps his pops was right; he hadn't fully understood the gravity of this war; he hadn't considered the involvement of the innocent and the pain they undoubtedly went through from the loss of their loved ones. He had only prayed for peace, for life to return to normal; and he finally realized how selfish and thoughtless that was. Things could never be the same again if a table that had once sat four became too big for only two. What difference could one humanoid boy make?

"Ameena… you're an orphan?" he asked tentatively while she nodded.

"And… 'ya sell flowers 'ta support yourself?"

"I grow what I can, yes."

"And… what happens if- if they don't grow? If no one buys any of 'ya pretty flowers?"

"Then I cut back the best I can."

"Even on your medicine?"

"Why, yes," she replied matter-of-factly with a hint of uncertainty. She continued to observe the small boy who had his head lowered, shielding his eyes from view and desperately gnawing at his bottom lip. A curious frown crossed her features.

"Roger…?"

She gasped when said boy suddenly got up and flung himself at her from across the table, wrapping his arms around her neck and pressing his face against her throat. Ameena sat rigid for a moment, speechless and baffled, unsure of the next course of action she should take. However, at the feel of a slight warm wetness upon her skin, her arms went up automatically to envelope the young child in a comforting embrace. Roger continued to cry silently, not knowing where his tears came from and angry at his sudden display of childish weakness. He couldn't let something like this affect him; he had to be strong for Ameena. He was probably making her feel worse with his stupid tears. A new wave of resolve overtook Roger and he mumbled something against her neck.

"Say… 'meena?"

"Mhmm?" she hummed sweetly, allowing Roger to pull back a bit as his wide chocolate-brown eyes met her twinkling emerald ones in determination.

"When the war's over, I'll take 'ya 'ta Surfeiro! I promise!" he exclaimed, his tail swishing from side to side excitedly; even his ears perked a little. The girl giggled, from both happiness and the ticklish sensation against her thighs.

"Really? Your parents won't mind?" Roger grinned from ear to ear.

"Aw, I wouldn't worry about them if I were 'ya! My folks are great: pops is an awesome cook, and mama tells all these… boring… stories… uh – _Anyway_, Surfeiro's real beautiful and it's always sunny, so it's nice and warm and it'll be good for your health and stuff! You'll love it there!" Ameena couldn't help but laugh at the boy's enthusiasm. She tapped his little nose, which twitched cutely.

"OK! Cross your heart?" Roger mimicked the action with his finger and saluted.

"And hope 'ta die!"

A beautiful smile graced Ameena's lips as she pulled him back into a tight hug.

* * *

The wagon rocked from side to side as it made its way across the bumpy, snow-covered terrain. It's four occupants sat within in silence, save a purple haired female at the reigns whom Nel had introduced earlier as Farleen. Next to Nel sat another woman by the name of Tynave, the supposed tomboy of their little group of three. The five of them were currently on their way to Kirlsa, an old mining town situated at Airyglyph's border.

Kirlsa was under the control of the Storm Brigade's Captain, Count Woltar, and the Black Brigade Headquarters wasn't that far off from the town as well; and as such, Nel had advised all of them to exercise extreme caution when passing through so as to not attract any unwanted attention from any passing soldiers. When Fayt had demanded an explanation as to why they were even bothering with such a risk, Nel had simply stated that this route was the fastest to Aquarian territory, and Cliff… Cliff just told him to shut up as usual.

The hours preceding their escape from Airyglyph's prison had been, for lack of a better term, eventful. For starters, he couldn't believe how smooth a talker Cliff was, managing to breeze his way through the defences and suspicions of their rescuer. On top of that, despite not knowing a single thing about this planet, Cliff had actually managed to convince Nel that they weren't spies or anything of the sort, but engineers on a mission from Greeton… wherever that was. Anyway, Cliff's story hadn't been _all_ lies. In fact, there were glimpses of truth in his explanation; specifically about how his father had gotten captured and that they were on a mission to save him.

However, there had been one question nagging at the back of his mind ever since he saw Nel perform that strange trick in the dungeons to get them out, and again when she healed his wounds once they boarded the wagon. She had called it "Runology" upon being questioned; claiming that one could command such a power by inscribing special runes into their skin, but only a few people possessed such potential in the first place. There were barely any in Aquaria, and none at all in Airyglyph.

When Cliff had remarked that their Runology had a strong resemblance to Symbology, Fayt was ecstatic. _No wonder_ those symbols looked so familiar, and that summoning circle… Runology was probably the primitive form of Symbology: a skill that was purely hereditary, exclusive and non-genetically replicated. Nel had been astounded at this revelation to say the least; she probably thought it fascinating that an art passed down by Apris – the god Aquarians ascribed to – was being replicated in foreign lands.

Shortly after that, Nel had briefed them about the state of the two kingdoms. While Airyglyph was a military superpower that governed its people akin to a dictatorship, Aquaria was a peaceful nation whose Queen was also the Holy Mother of the Sacred Church of Apris, a theocratic rule espoused from their worship of said god. The cause of the war had been simple enough: Airyglyph was a poor nation that sought to subjugate the prosperous lands of Aquaria under a single, unified rule, under their sole control.

"It seemed that Airyglyph has been planning for war for quite some time. After six years of international silence, they finally struck without warning, laying waste to our border town, Arias. There was no room for negation," Nel had said in a solemn voice.

Fayt stared down helplessly at the map spread out before him, not really studying the lands, but desperately trying to absorb the situation they, as well as this continent, were in.

Discussions had proceeded smoothly at first, until Nel finally told them what exactly their help would entail, and… well, to put things simply, he didn't like it, which would explain the **major** disagreement him and Nel were currently in.

He was dragged out of memory lane when Nel snapped her fingers in front of his face, her expression irritated and impatient. Grimly, Fayt realized that expression of hers was showing up more and more when it came to him.

"Fayt, I asked if you could help us. If you're going to fall asleep on me, I can assure you, I know various methods to keep my audience attentive."

A dark glint flashed across her violet eyes and Fayt had to suppress a shiver of fear. He recalled how skilfully and effortlessly Nel had taken down the Inquisitor and a few soldiers when they were caught trying to escape, as well as the few monsters they encountered in the Aqueducts on the way out. Oh sure, Cliff could hold his ground (and beat the living crap out of anything that so much as moved, with his bare hands) and Nel had handed him a sword to dish out his own fair share of damage (and Sophia said all that gaming had been useless, _hah!)_, but the Aquarian… she was a natural. The graceful fluidity of her movements as she wielded her blades, as if she were executing a complicated dance instead of murder; the way she darted in and out of battle with the swift dexterity akin to a ninja; the way she regarded her dying opponent without so much as batting an eyelash – Nel was a born, cold-blooded killer.

Fayt was seriously reconsidering his position over here. Being fearful of the enemy was one thing, but remaining oblivious to who the _real _enemy was, was even more frightening. He didn't know if Nel had any reservations on trusting him, but he sure as hell did for her.

"And I _did_ hear you," he answered back with a slight edge in his voice. "But you're asking me to help build a weapon that would kill hundreds of people! I don't want any part in that!"

Prior to their current line of disagreement, Nel had informed them about a new weapon the researchers in Aquaria had developed to put an end to the war as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, there was some problem in its design construct, causing research to ground to an indefinite halt. The weapon was to be powered by _Runology_, a form of energy similar to that of _Symbology_, and was designed to channel the energy source to produce a powerful lightning blast capable of destroying a small town in a single shot.

"Look, if this was going to be a problem, you should have thought about it before agreeing to our deal," Nel said coldly while Fayt bristled in aggravation.

"Deal? _Deal?!_ What part of that sounded like a deal to you!?" He knew he was halfway close to biting the woman's head off. "You can live, or you can die. That's coercion and you know it!" That earned him a piercing glare from Nel.

"Call it what you will, but you still owe me an answer. I should warn you though, our deal still stands. If you refuse to cooperate, I _will_ kill you. _Both of you._"

"Is _that_ a teaching of your god, Apris?" he countered with spite.

"No, but the death of a few is insubstantial to hundreds. God or no god, some things must be done for the greater good of mankind. My mission is my religion."

Fayt growled and threw his back against the wagon walls in frustration. He shut his eyes and leaned against the canvas, arms crossed in defiance. He refused to look at Nel because he feared the consequences of his future actions if he did; he refused to get mad and blow his top again at yet another headstrong idiot on this crazy adventure because it usually ended up a total waste of his breath and spit; and he refused to open his eyes and say anything because perhaps if he behaved like a petulant child, he would lose all credibility and Nel would figure out she made some mistake and just throw them out… What? A guy could dream, couldn't he?

"Yo Fayt, ease up, would you?"

He sighed inwardly. And then there was good old Cliff. How the blonde could harbour an attraction towards this crazy lady and side with her all the damn time was beyond him. Honestly, was he the only one of a rational, solid opinion on this godforsaken planet?

This time, Fayt sighed out loud, his eyebrows moving into a frown while his eyes remained closed.

"Is there any other way to appease Airyglyph?"

Nel shook her head, but when she realised Fayt couldn't see that, she spoke, "All negotiations ceased eight months ago. They rejected all peace treaties and any mention of a compromise. Airyglyph wants Aquarian lands and they have sworn to take it by force if need be."

"A full-scale, aggressive invasion driven by personal gain, huh?" remarked Cliff.

"Yes."

Fayt considered his next words carefully. However, no matter how he re-worded it in his head, he knew there was no kinder way to put his question forward. Then again, their rescuer wasn't exactly being kind to them either by threatening to kill them, wasn't she?

"I'm sorry, Nel. I won't do it. We can't help you."

"Then are we to submit ourselves to their blades like lambs to a slaughter?!"

Fayt's eyes shot open at her words; the simmering fire in his gut now set fully ablaze. This woman had _no right_ _whatsoever_ to put such careless words into his mouth. If she thought she could bully them into cooperating, then she had another thing coming. He slammed his fists onto the wooden floorboards and was right up at her face, expression livid.

"That's _**not**_ what I _**meant**__,_" he hissed in contempt.

"But that _**is**_ what you are _**saying**_," she matched his tone.

The two glared heatedly at each other, the staring contest so intense that an agitated Cliff and an awkward Tynave looked about two seconds close to pissing in their pants. And then, by some sheer force or will, Nel pulled away, her glare fading away to be replaced with a cold, determined stare. Her next words were chosen with levelled precision.

"If you think I'm good with coercion, think again." She unsheathed her dagger and to lay emphasis in her point, stabbed it in the wood in-between a surprised Fayt's fingers.

"I'm going to be frank with the both of you. Airyglyph has no need for you any more than my need to hear _your_ incessant whining. They found a way to finish this war and I'll be _damned_ if they use that method before we finish our weapon!"

She dislodged the dagger and Fayt gulped audibly when he felt its tip press against his throat.

"By Apris, I'll _make_ you cooperate if it means I can stop them from using _that!_"

Everyone in the wagon fell silent, their mouths hanging open in shock – even the driver, Farleen, turned back to regard her superior with interest. Fayt was half-tempted to reach up and strangle the slightly hysterical woman senseless, but the evident mass of emotion swimming in her eyes made him reconsider everything. Nel's façade had cracked and at that very moment, she looked as vulnerable and lost as he felt. There was something she wasn't telling them – any one of them for that matter – and he was determined to find out what it was.

"Lady Nel, we have company!" cried Farleen all of a sudden, jerking sharply at the reigns.

The abrupt change in course sent the four of them inside the wagon, tumbling. Disoriented, Fayt scrambled to his feet, but the sharp jostling sent him rolling again. Fortunately for him, Cliff managed to grab the back of his collar before he flew right out.

"What the hell is going on?!" Cliff demanded, his free hand scrambling to grab a hold of something to keep himself balanced. He turned to glare at a frustrated Nel.

"Are you guys _messing_ with us?" Nel simply pushed right past him to get a peak outside, only to gasp and recoil back in as if having being burnt.

"_Damn it_! It's the Dragon Brigade! And we were so close to Kirlsa too!" This was the second time today Fayt noticed the falter in her composure.

He was confused; hadn't Nel said that Airyglyph no longer had any use for him and Cliff? That they found an alternative solution to put an end to the war? If that was the case, why was the _Dragon Brigade_ – Airyglyph's highest military command – here? So many things just didn't add up; and a glance at Cliff told him that the blonde was probably thinking the same thing.

Tynave stepped forward and saluted her superior.

"Ma'am, take these men and get to Kirlsa quickly! Farleen will slow down a bit to give you three a chance to slip out and escape. We'll lure them away." Nel regarded her comrade evenly, before indicating her consent.

"Right. Tynave, Farleen, I'm counting on you," she said while approaching Fayt and Cliff. "You two, let's go."

Fayt stared at her in disbelief. "You're just going to _abandon_ them like that? They don't stand a chance against those Air Dragons! You're practically ordering their suicide!"

Seriously, he couldn't understand this woman. Weren't Tynave and Farleen her most trusted subordinates – her closest friends even? He might not have understood the way this planet operated, but he knew for sure that that was **not** how good friends treated each other by beckoning them to their deaths.

"Unless you have any better ideas, I suggest you do as I say or die before you can even go rescue your father," Nel replied patiently as she parted the canvas to get a good look outside. "You're no good to anyone dead and it is my mission to see to your protection until we reach Aquois."

"But Nel, _think_ for a sec – "

"_Fayt_," Cliff interrupted with just as much bite, "there's no point arguing with her, especially since she's right. You don't have to give your answer now, but the important thing is to stay _alive_ if you want to see your old man again." He folded his arms in finality.

"My job is to protect you as well, so I'm with Nel on this. We don't really have any choice!"

"But – "

"We'll be fine," Tynave stepped forward and did her best to reassure him. "Less people means faster speed. We'll be able to outrun them. You're too precious to lose, so please, go!"

When Fayt still looked unsure, she placed a hand over her heart in their customary salute.

"Take care of Lady Nel for us, and forgive me for this – "

And in one swift roundhouse kick, she sent Fayt flying out the wagon onto the dirt path behind them. Cliff and Nel leapt out after him while the wagon sped off with three bloodthirsty Air Dragons at their tail. Tynave turned away and closed her eyes.

"May the grace of Apris be with you."

* * *

As soon as the last Air Dragon disappeared from sight, Fayt grabbed Nel by the shoulder and whirled her around to face him. He didn't even know where this insane surge of courage came from, but before he could even stop to consider his actions, he drew back his hand and delivered a sharp slap to the unsuspecting woman's face.

"_What the __**hell**__ is wrong with you!?"_ he yelled above the roaring winds. "If we stayed on board, we could've fought those soldiers off! Am I right to say that we'll never see them again?" Nel remained silent, eyes glazing over, while Fayt lost his patience.

"_Am I?!"_

They were standing on barren land, in the middle of a dirt path. Snow continued to fall around them, the winds picking up drastically – probably due to an oncoming snow-storm. Nel pulled her scarf around herself tighter.

"… If I hadn't done what I did, the mission would've been compromised." Nel's stare hardened, meeting his head-on. "If I were to compromise the mission, they would've left me behind too."

Fayt gazed at her with wide, disbelieving eyes, momentarily stunned from such an aloof explanation; but his anger promptly returned and he forced his fists against his side least he ended up hitting her again.

"Mission? _Mission?!_ What is it with you and your mission? You preach about loyalty and comadre, but you offer your friends up to the enemy at the slightest mishap." He pointed a finger at her accusingly.

"How can I trust you?" he said in a whisper. "How do I know if you're not as bad as Airyglyph; if you're the real enemies; if you're lying. Your words in the wagon, the contradicting dragon attack – there's something you and only you are hiding. What are you not telling us, Nel?"

The Aquarian stared at him desperately. "Fayt, I – "

However, she paused and her eyes soon grew wide in awe at what she saw right in front of her: a strange blue light had started to gather at the centre of Fayt's forehead, radiating a slight pulse of pure energy. Before she could question him about it, the light and power faded, making her wonder if the stress and fatigue were playing tricks on her.

When Nel continued to stare blankly at him, a perturbed frown began to creep across Fayt's features.

"… What?" he asked suspiciously. "Upset that I ruined your little game of lies and deceit?"

"Kid, if you don't _shut up_ right now, I'll sock you!" Fayt growled in frustration. He _did not_ need any lip from the blonde dolt now!

"And you're OK with all this?!" He whirled around and advanced upon Cliff. "Because of _us,_ two innocent people have thrown away their lives – _and all you can say is 'shut up' for like what, the __**4**__**th**__** time**__?!_ Have you two no heart at all?"

Cliff grabbed Fayt and yanked him up by the collar until the boy's feet dangled off the ground. Fayt's resolve faltered the slightest bit from the intensity of Cliff's furious stare.

"Don't you _**dare**_ insinuate things about me! You don't even know me, so quit being such a self-centred brat and _**think**_ about the bigger picture for once!" Cliff released Fayt and gave him a hard shove.

"What's done is done and we can't do anything about it but move forward. Staying out here in the open isn't safe. What if the Dragon Brigade realise they've been led astray and turn back?" Cliff was staring down at the silent Fayt now. He shoved him again.

"Do you want Tynave and Farleen's sacrifice to be in vain?!"

Fayt's head snapped up at that, suddenly feeling ashamed. Although he hated to admit it, everything that Cliff said was absolutely right. He really ought to consider giving the older man more credit for his insight. Damn it, he hated this feeling. He felt so lost, useless, and trapped.

"How – " Nel and Cliff looked to him nervously. "H-How far are we from Kirlsa." They found themselves letting out involuntary sighs of relief.

"Not too far I believe. Why?" asked Nel with a slight tilt of her head.

Meanwhile, the cold, biting winds continued their relentless assault on the party of three. The temperature seemed to have dropped significantly since they left Airyglyph. Being a Klausian, Cliff was able to withstand the harsh temperatures and Nel had probably grown used to the climate, but Fayt wasn't. The poor teen shivered violently and had wrapped his arms around his form in a bid to provide _some_ form of warmth, although it didn't help the Earthling at all.

Shaking off her suspicions, Nel placed a hand on Fayt's shoulder in a display of concern. Although they couldn't exactly see eye-to-eye, that didn't mean she had completely no heart. When Fayt faced her, she offered him a wry smile.

"I'm sorry, Fayt, but could you try to hold on a little longer? It won't be long before we reach Kirlsa. It's at the base of these mountains, so it should get warmer as we go down."

Too cold to say anything, all Fayt could do was nod. His response was enough to satisfy her.

"Good. We better pick up the pace if we want to reach by nightfall. Cliff, stop staring. Let's move."

Said blonde simply gawked after her, watching her set the pace with Fayt trailing obediently (surprise, surprise) behind her. He recalled Fayt's earlier suspicions on the woman and Cliff couldn't help but acknowledge them in silence. After all, Nel had been one crazy mood swing from another. He knew a mask when he saw one, and this protector of theirs was definitely wearing one. She was worried about something, and he was willing to bet all the clothes he had on that it hadn't anything to do with Tynave and Farleen.

After what seemed like forever, they finally made it to the town's entrance. If Fayt had been in the right frame of mind, the teen would have leaped and cried out to the heavens in pure, unbridled joy, but no, he wasn't feeling well, not in the slightest. He felt dizzy and his head throbbed with excruciating jolts of pain. Nausea crept up his throat, but he pushed it down in defiance. His vision interchanged between stark white and normal, and parts of his body started to feel strangely numb. Every word that left Nel and Cliff's mouths as they conversed, felt like a million bricks hammering on his skull. Either way, he felt like his brain was on the verge of imploding.

Pausing in his stride, he bent over and squatted on the ground, hands flying to his head in an effort to stifle the pain. A soft groan escaped the confines of his throat, one that he had desperately tried to oppress. Perhaps all these catastrophic events were finally taking its toll on him.

"Yo, Fayt? _Fayt!_ What's wrong? You gonna throw up or something?" Cliff hovered over him as worry flooded his features. He offered a hand only to have it smacked away.

"I'm fine," said Fayt, but it came out more like a pathetic gurgle. Nel rolled her eyes in exasperation. This kid was more trouble than he was worth.

"Well, you don't _look_ fine," pressed Cliff, growing rather anxious by now. Fayt couldn't even hold onto his sword, the blade lying on the ground by his fingers.

"Hm… The trip must have worn you out; the drastic change in temperatures tend to do that." Nel observed, earning her a stubborn glare from the teen.

Fayt _really_ didn't need this sort of unwanted attention, especially from the two very people who had supposedly turned his peacefully normal life upside down.

"I said I'm fine. I'm not a baby, geez!" he grouched while standing to his feet, forcing himself forward further into Kirlsa.

Cliff and Nel stared at each other from the corner of their eyes and shrugged. It seemed neither one of them felt particularly thrilled to deal with a cranky, stubborn, teenage boy so late in the evening. And then, much to their amusement, said boy hadn't taken more than five steps, before collapsing on a wooden crate just past the town gates. Oh well, so much for manly bravado.

They stood around him and smirked – well, Cliff did anyway; Nel was busy pointing at some nearby building and relaying some instructions.

"There's an inn over there," she gestured to a homely-looking establishment with an old wooden signboard hanging over its entrance. "We'll stay there for the night. If I had my way, we'll be heading for Arias right now – she glanced piteously at the youngest member of their group – However, Fayt's in no condition to proceed – "

"I said I'm fine!"

He went ignored.

"So we'll leave first thing in the morning. I suggest you two get plenty of rest. I have to – "

There was a loud _'thump!'_ and when she and Cliff looked down, they found out Fayt had collapsed onto the cobblestone road. The teenager was out like a light. Nel let out a long, aggravated sigh and brought a hand up to massage her temples. 'I'm fine' indeed.

Cliff chuckled and dragged the boy up from under his arms. He winked Nel who merely raised an eyebrow in question.

"Help me with his legs, will you? Two's a lot faster than one."

Nel stared at him incredulously for a good two seconds, chanced a few furtive glances around the vicinity, before going to the blonde's aid. In her heart, she prayed no Glyphian soldiers would spot them in such a compromising position. As she walked backwards with Fayt's legs in her hands and a triumphant Cliff grinning dashingly at her, she couldn't help but wonder how she ended up stuck babysitting a pair of idiots who were far too much trouble than they were worth.

* * *

"Aww… he's sleeping like a baby. The kid's far cuter when he's quiet, don't you think?" Cliff cooed in mockery, casually wrapping an arm around Nel's shoulders as they watched Fayt sleep.

The immediate contact combined with the blonde's forwardness caused Nel to twitch in irritation. She smashed an open palm against Cliff's cheek and shoved him away. Her cheeks had gone a bright red at the implications behind his earlier comment and she willed herself to place as much distance between them as possible, least she castrated the blonde in her fury and embarrassment.

"I'm going out," she huffed indignantly, turning to leave the men's room. Cliff snickered after her, which made her visibly bristle.

"Where to?" A smirk slowly made its way across his lips. "And you're just going to leave us here? Not worried we'll run away?"

"I'm meeting an informant stationed in town, I shouldn't be long." She answered, returning the smirk confidently. "And I doubt Fayt's in any condition to go anywhere for now. Besides – her smirk turned into a sweet smile – I trust you."

The rare sight of her smile caused Cliff to blush in surprise and he quickly turned his head away in embarrassment.

"Aw, why did you have to go and say something like that? Now we _can't_ run away," he whined, staring at her helplessly. "You're evil."

A giggle was all Nel offered in return as Cliff laughed it off.

"How's your face? The kid didn't hit you too hard did he? Because I believe he's way overdue for a good smack in return."

"No, I'm alright." She offered him a sideways smirk. "Besides, I barely felt it. I'm a lot tougher than I look."

"Yeah, I know. Either that or Fayt hits like a total pansy."

Nel only shook her head in amusement before she proceeded down a flight of stairs, which led to the lobby. However, she seemed to remember something, making her stop halfway. She turned to glance up at a curious Cliff.

"Hey, Cliff?" she began hesitantly, "Earlier on the Traum Mountains… there was this blue glow at Fayt's forehead and… a pulse. Did you see anything?" Cliff's eyebrows arched up comically.

"Blue glow? Pulse?_ … Fayt?_" he echoed in disbelief, only to burst out laughing.

"Nel, are you hearing yourself?" His laughter died down as a warm smile danced across his eyes. "The journey must have worn you out. Go do what you have to do and come back quickly to rest, yeah? Don't make me worry about you too."

Nel's heart fluttered a little at Cliff's admission.

"Yes, that may be it. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worried you so unnecessarily like that."

"_Nah,_ don't beat yourself over it." She glanced at him shyly.

"Alright, I'm leaving now… I'll see you later?"

Cliff nodded, watching her go. It was only when Nel had left the inn that he allowed his smile to fade, dropping the act completely.

* * *

Twilight fell upon Peterny and all was silent within the modest house, save the soft humming from Ameena as she sat on her bed hard at work on her Palmira Wishing Charm. The girl had lit a few candles in her room in preparation for nightfall. In the next room on the floor, sat Roger, who was hurriedly stuffing some apples into his backpack in preparation to leave. He had already informed Ameena of his desire to travel to Airyglyph and seek out the strange machine that crashed there and to also, hopefully, meet up with someone he hadn't seen in months. The girl had greatly supported his quest and even insisted on giving him some money to which, after she threatened to shove it down his pants, Roger had grudgingly accepted. He felt terrible and immensely guilty taking her hard-earned money like that, but she claimed that keeping his promise would be payment enough.

"Grr… come on… just a lil' more… _got'cha!_"

The bag looked about ready to burst at its seams, but it held out surprisingly well against all the food. Roger hooked the catch and after much difficulty and hauled the massive backpack onto his little shoulders. Unfortunately, taking a step forward only resulted in him tipping over backwards from the weight. His arms and legs flailed wildly in the air as he struggled to get up the right way, feeling very much like a tortoise.

"Aw, _come on!_ 'ya gotta be kidding me – 'meeennaaaaaa! 'meena, _heeelllllpppp!"_

Roger ceased his struggles however, when his cries for help went unanswered. He craned his neck to look down the dark hall that led to Ameena's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and a thin sliver of light peaked from within, casting a dim glow in the common area. Things seemed peaceful enough, would appear ordinary even to a normal person, but the frantic twitching of the Menodix's ears suggested otherwise.

With a sudden burst of strength, Roger rolled to his feet and hobbled quickly to the bedroom, throwing the door open so violently that it banged against the nearby wall, rattling its hinges. The boy stood at the entrance with wide eyes. The yellow backpack he had on crashed noisily onto the ground, pots and pans tumbling out along with various other provisions; but Roger paid it no heed as he rushed straight for his hostess who was coughing madly.

Ameena lay on the bed, curling in on herself as she coughed continuously into her hand. Gripped loosely in her free hand, was the incomplete chain of Palmira flowers, which shook every time a violent cough wrecked her frail body. Roger yanked the flowers from her and threw them aside, then he climbed onto the bed and pulled her other hand away fro her mouth, only to recoil in shock at the sight of all that blood.

Pupils dilating in fear, Roger sat completely still, his body suddenly going numb at the prospect of danger. He was vaguely reminded of the time Melt got injured during the fight in the caverns; the time his best friend needed him most and he simply stood there gawking and stuttering like an idiot. Now, it was happening again and there was no Nel, no Lezard – no one to help Ameena, but him.

'Dang it, body, _**move!**_**' **Roger urged desperately, shaky hands reaching out to grasp at Ameena's shoulders to turn her around so that she lay evenly on her back. His hands continued to shake as he moved them to hover over her chest, one hand clasped on top of the other. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate.

'OK, 'ya got this, Roger. 'ya got this. Now, remember what Nel used 'ta say: direct all focus to the palms and push it all out. Focus… focus…'

A pale green glow began to centre itself beneath his palms, but just when the energy reached its peak, the brilliant green light crackled and disintegrated.

"_Dang it!"_ Roger cursed in frustration, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He tried it over and over, but his efforts yielded zero results, while Ameena's breath grew harsher and harsher by the second.

_No!_ He couldn't give up, he wouldn't! Ameena needed him; she only had him to rely on and he couldn't let her down, not like how he did Melt and his friends in the past. He promised her he'd take her to Surfero once the war was over. He _had_ to save her; he'd see to it that she saw the village with her own two eyes; he wouldn't abandon her like how she hadn't abandoned him.

This was a job only a _real man_ could do.

'_Focus… focus…'_

"R-Roger…?" His eyes snapped open to stare at the frightened girl, who wheezed as she forced herself to speak.

"C-Can't… breathe…" she gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "H-Help… Roger, I'm s-scared…"

And that was all it took for Roger's resolve to harden, giving his all into his powers as he healed the brunette with a newfound confidence. The light beneath his palms shone brilliantly, spreading its warmth across the expanse of Ameena's breast. As the green glow washed over her, she immediately felt a whole lot calmer and her heart and lungs didn't feel as if they were on fire any more. The frown on her face relaxed and her breathing was steady once more. With the pain gone, a soothing sensation remained from the after effects of Roger's healing, lulling her weary mind into the beckoning fog of dreamless slumber.

When the worst was finally over, Roger released a loud sigh he didn't know he had been holding in, and slumped backwards in exhaustion. He had never done a full-body healing before, and it had been quite some time since he last practiced this particular ability. Not to mention he wasn't a trained doctor, so he hadn't been sure which part to focus his energy on. So he ended up taking the high road and healed everything.

Man, was he beat.

"Roger…?" Ameena whispered, successfully getting his attention. "What… did you just do?"

"Simple: I healed 'ya," he replied, drawing the quilt up to Ameena's chin as he tucked her in. "It kinda sucks though. All the other humanoids have _waaaayyy_ cooler powers – like my best friend can summon a fire golems, and my other best friend can do this cool thing with the earth…" Roger trailed off, crest-fallen; his ears drooped.

"'ya know, I'm supposed to be the minister's son. But everyone just laughs at me. No one actually believes I can take over my pops when the time comes." Ameena reached up and scratched behind his ear affectionately.

"Well, _I_ think it's a wonderful skill, and you know what?" Roger frowned curiously.

"What?"

"I believe in you. Does my vote count for something?" Roger regarded her with a blank stare, before a wide grin gradually spread across his lips. This girl was really something special.

When Ameena's eyelids slid shut, he hopped off the bed and padded towards the door as quietly as possible. He halted in mid-stride however, when he heard the brunette call out to him softly.

"Are… Are you leaving for Airyglyph now?" She sounded worried.

"What, are 'ya stupid or somethin'?" he replied with a smirk, turning around to face her. "As if I could leave 'ya after what just happened. I'm just gonna go fetch you some water from the well."

At the Menodix's explanation, Ameena simply indulged in a rare moment of childishness, pulling the quilt over her head only to lower it a little after, peaking coquettishly over the edge. Her eyes darted about hesitantly.

"Um… about the water…" she blushed and pulled the covers closer, muffling her speech a little. "Actually, could you just stay here? At least until I fall asleep? I… I don't want to be alone."

Roger's expression softened at her shy admission. He pushed a chair next to her bed and climbed onto it. Then he folded his arms and tucked his chin against his neck. Ameena smiled gratefully and closed her eyes.

"Thanks. Goodnight, Roger."

"G'night, 'meena."

"Roger?" His eyes snapped opened as he lifted his head.

"Yeah?" That hesitant expression was back in her eyes. Ameena traced the sheets nervously with her fingers.

"Are you leaving… tomorrow?" Roger snickered and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.

"I'll still be here when 'ya wake up in the morning, don't 'ya worry. I won't leave 'ya."

"Promise?"

Roger paused to stare at the delicate pinkie that emerged from beneath the quilt covers, the lone digit like a beacon of hope amidst the vast darkness. It inspired a particular memory from his part, a memory of a promise he had strived to uphold despite the Aquarian's cold rejection, an empty promise that seemed to grow less and less substantial as the days, weeks, months went by. He didn't know what he was chasing after anymore, if his journey contained any purpose to begin with. He had been waiting anxiously all this time for a sign, but what would that entail? If he did manage to find Nel, could he even convince her to give up whatever mission she had and come home? Would he be able to make her remember, or had he already become nothing but a distant memory to her? Just a kid who didn't understand a thing about war?

Roger didn't know anymore; but _this_ – he stared at Ameena's pinkie – this was something he could hold onto, that he knew he actually had the power to keep and protect. He hooked his own pinkie with hers.

"I promise."

* * *

**Author's note:**

Urgh... been listening to "So Alone, Be Sorrow" on repeat while writing this.

I suppose it shows.

Read & Review please!


	6. One Step Forward, One Step Back

**Author's note:**

I sincerely apologise for such a delayed update. Honestly, I hadn't been inspired for months and ideas came out exceedingly forced so I decided to just stop and take a break for a bit. In addition, I got myself a part-time job for the holiday month and have my weekdays full with work, taking away precious writing time. Wonderful things have happened in my life since I last updated and I confess my happiness got me distracted too. I don't feel sorry for that though. Also, I've received two reviews in my absence and they are the reason why this chapter is finally ready for publication. I owe this update to **DuCree **and **Person on a PSP** to whose reviews I will respond to below:

**DuCree** - Thank you for your kind words and feedback on Roger's characterisation. I was so thrilled to receive your review because Roger is my favourite character (obviously) in the game and there was a lot of self-pressure to get him right. It's awesome that your love for SO3 is still going strong! Always awesome to have a long-time fan reading my story because it'll definitely be more appreciated. I hope. Haha. Yes, and that SO2 reference! Glad you caught it and even happier that you loved it! It's a nice fanservice to give to the fans of the other installments too!

**Person on a PSP** - Thank you so much for complimenting on my writing! To be honest, I felt as if my standards have dropped, but your review has boosted my confidence once more! Although, I shouldn't slack and continue to write my best! Yes, Fayt is an annoying little bugger, isn't he? But I agree, with the amount of shit he has to endure, who wouldn't act a little iffy? Yes, the breakup of friendship between Roger and Lucien hurt my heart when I wrote it too. I'm really glad to know I have touched someone so much with that scene!

Also, to those who favourited and followed my story, thank you!

Now, On with the fic!

* * *

**The Stars Told Me So**

**by Dark Interval**

**Chapter 6: One Step Forward, One Step Back**

* * *

"Roger, no! I said you didn't have to!"

"And I said not 'ta worry 'bout it," said the stubborn Menodix, who scurried under the table when Ameena made a grab for her flower basket once more. She pouted while he snickered and stuck out his tongue playfully.

"Sick people oughtta be resting, not working! 'ya gotta _really_ have rocks fer brains if 'ya think I'd let you go after that fiasco last night." He pounded his chest with his free hand, a smug grin on his face.

"Besides, it's the least I could do in return for yer help. Just sit tight and leave this job 'ta a real man!"

Ameena stared at him dubiously for a moment, before bursting out into a fit of giggles. The sight was hilarious: there Roger stood with one of her old shawls wrapped around his head, an apron tied to his front, and a basket of flowers slung over his arm; while he went on about his habitual "real man" speeches. He raised an eyebrow in question, steadily growing annoyed by her giggling.

"Hey, what're 'ya laughing about, huh? Summin' I said?" Ameena shook her head, clutching her stomach.

How could she go about telling him that with that red shawl draped over his head, he looked like a miniature 'Little Red Riding Hood'? Or the fact that the flowers complimented his pouty lips and adorable pink cheeks – or that the cream apron with a pink daisy print on the front pocket made him look effeminately domesticated. All in all: totally unmanly.

She considered telling him that the way he dressed right now seriously placed a damper on his style, but decided against it, taking pleasure in how _adorable_ the humanoid boy looked. She was laughing so hard that she choked, causing her to let out a few dry coughs. Catching herself, she glanced at Roger nervously, who smirked in triumph.

"_See?_" He tutted, wagging his finger at her. "Still sick as a dog."

He snagged an apple from a nearby fruits basket as he made his way towards the front door.

"I'm supposed 'ta go around the whole town, right?" he called out over his shoulder, in-between bites. Ameena sighed, relenting.

"_Oh_, alright." She plopped down on a chair. "Yes, that's right. I usually make about four rounds, but it depends on the crowd. Start at the town square and slowly make your way to the east and west sides."

"Got it!" She smiled at his enthusiasm.

"By the way, Peterny's a notorious spot for gossipers. Perhaps you might find out something about that strange machine that fell in Airyglyph?" Roger's eyes shone in glee, the large chocolate-brown pools unblinking.

"_R-Really?_ Sweet! 'ya really think I could find out summin'?" Ameena shrugged her shoulders casually.

"I don't see why not. You'd be surprised how fast news travels here. Although… some might sound rather bogus, so do take care in what you choose to believe."

"Wow, thanks!" Roger glanced at the window and gave a start at how bright it had already gotten outside. "_Yipes!_ Gotta go! See 'ya later!"

With that, the humanoid zipped towards the door, turned the knob and flung it open. He was eager to get an early start, especially since people tended to do their marketing around this time, and more people meant more gossip. Even though he couldn't make it to Airyglyph, at least being stuck in Peterny had its strong points too.

"Ah! Roger, remember what we talked about earlier? If anyone asks – "

"I'm just Ameena's friend comin' over for a visit and givin' her a hand – I know, I know, _sheesh!"_ he muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Granted, gossip travelled incredibly fast here; but wasn't the girl being a little _too_ paranoid? This slight change was only temporary, if not merely for today, so what was the big deal? Were the townspeople that paranoid about new faces?

"Oh, and Roger?"

"_What now?"_ He resisted a groan; he _really_ wanted to leave right now.

A mischievous grin spread across Ameena's lips, leaking into her eyes as they twinkled. She hid her laughter behind her hand.

"Oh, nothing… Just that you make one cute Flower Girl."

The reaction was immediate: Roger's face heated up, crimsoning so violently that he looked he might actually pass out from the amount of blood going to his face. An embarrassed scowl entered his features, making him wish he had just high-tailed out of here when he had the chance. Instead, he tried to salvage his pride and dignity with the one comeback he could think of right now.

"_Aw, shut up!"_

* * *

Fayt groaned and sat up, slowly taking in his new surroundings as he held his head. The room he was in was not only terribly unfamiliar, but small too, with bits of whitewashed wood chipping from the floorboards and a few cracks in the dull grey stonewalls. When he sat up more, his head crashed against something solid above him, and it took him a few seconds to register that he was currently on the lower bunk of a double-decker bed.

_Gods._ He had to _stop_ passing out and waking up in strange new places. He felt like he went through amnesia _twice_ for crying out loud!

Stepping out of bed, Fayt did a few stretches, working out the kinks in his stiff muscles. He sighed in pleasure when he felt his body relax, only to give a start when he heard his shoulders pop. OK… that didn't sound too good, but it helped. How long had he been asleep anyway?

A quick glance out the window indicated about mid-afternoon, making Fayt feel even more disoriented. He had slept nearly half the day away… _how_? Sure, he could recall short glimpses from yesterday's events; how they were chased by the Dragon Brigade, how his body had felt _so damn bad_ _everywhere_, how they finally reached Kirlsa, and then… nothing – probably the exact moment he passed out from the fatigue, or the pain, or the stress, or _something._

The distinct absence of Cliff's gruff and forward-sounding voice confirmed that he was very much alone and very much confused as to what he should do from here.

'Urgh. Thanks a lot, Cliff,' Fayt thought to himself gloomily as he scratched the back of his head. A loud sigh escaped his mouth. 'Guess there's no point staying here… Might as well walk around and check this "Kirlsa" out.'

He approached the wall where his sword was leaning against, contemplating whether he should take it with him. But when he remembered they were in Airyglyph territory, he decided to just in case. As he tied the weapon to his hip, Fayt's mind started to wander: where were Nel and Cliff? It wouldn't make sense for either of them to just abandon him here alone like that without an explanation – seeing as he was apparently so "important" to their respective missions – neither did it seem likely that they got captured by enemy soldiers because he would undoubtedly have gotten abducted too if Cliff ran his big mouth as usual. Then there was the question of trust: did Nel really trust him not to attempt an escape? Fayt sighed inwardly at that. Yes – yes, she did; because like it or not, he wasn't the kind of guy to back out of a deal no matter how inappropriate the terms may be. He was too honest for his own good, and Nel probably knew that as well if his self-righteous display back in the wagon had accounted for anything.

When he realized there was no other exit from this small room except a narrow stairway to the side, Fayt descended the stairs and found himself in an equally run-down but more spacious room. Spotting a kindly looking raven-haired girl behind a desk, he figured he was at the supposed lobby of a local inn. Simply brushing past her, he was about to step out to explore the town when a gentle, meek voice halted him in his stride.

"E-Excuse me, sir?" Fayt whirled around and found that the voice belonged to the very girl stationed behind the front desk. She was twirling one of her plaits with a finger as she regarded him bashfully.

"Are you a Mister – she fumbled at the guest book – Fayt Leingod?" She let out a tiny squeal of delight when he nodded in acknowledgement, causing her to blush in embarrassment, catching herself. Fayt continued to stare at her weirdly, observing her cheeks growing redder the longer his gaze lingered, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why.

"S-Sorry," the girl apologized, clearing her throat. The blush was still there though. "I h-have a message for you… From your blonde friend?" That seemed to have gotten Fayt's attention, who had moved to stand in front of her.

"Yeah, that's for me all right," he said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "What does he want?"

He frowned, confused when the raven-haired girl squeaked and avoided his gaze when he addressed her. Was he being too intrusive perhaps? He backed up a bit and to his relief she began speaking.

"He said that he'd be gone for a while and that you're free to walk about as long as you return by sunset." She paused and held up a dark red bag tied close with a string.

"Also, your other friend, the pretty red haired lady, wants you to have this. There's about 5,000 fol in there for you to fix up your weapon and armor, or get something to eat. We have an armorer and outfitter just one street down from here, and a grocer and tavern not too far from them."

Fayt thanked her and accepted the bag, offering her a grateful smile before exiting the inn completely.

Unbeknownst to him however, the girl's polite disposition melted away once he had departed, her face taking on a giddy, almost lovesick expression. She cupped her cheeks and twirled around on the spot, giggling madly to herself. She _knew _it, oh she just knew it: the boy was even more handsome awake than he already was while asleep. Those enchanting emerald eyes; his brilliant and oh-so-unique blue hair; the _perfect_ lean, muscular physique he had going on for him; and that gorgeous smile– _oh, _she definitely had to write to her friends in Peterny about this! After all, it wasn't every day a cute guy walked through your front door and gave you that _one perfect smile_ that would make _any_ girl's day.

* * *

A tall man with a lean, muscled build, donned in semi-revealing royal purple garments, emerged from Peterny's East-side inn. Despite the skeptical and seemingly dubious military apparel, the figure-hugging material complimented and emphasized the shape and form of his masculinity deliciously. He wore a metal-and-chain collar around his neck and had on metallic shoulder guards; a katana was attached at his hip. The man was incredibly handsome, but the dark and distant impression he gave off was enough to make wandering, hopeful eyes turn away. His two-toned hair was a combination of blonde and olive-brown, framing his sharp features in an attractive manner and ending at the back of his knees in a pair of twin-tails, which were wrapped in bandages.

Piercing vermillion eyes scanned his surroundings, only to cringe at the overflowing aura of extreme _happiness_ that pervaded the air. Oh how he hated Peterny: this god-forsaken town was too bright and cheerful for its own good; people here were too indulgent and eager to share _everything_ with others – and this was exactly why he came here in the first place. In a town packed with gossip mongers and suspicious neighbors that both praised and bad-mouthed each other in their hunger for drama and social scandal, there was an exceedingly probable chance that he could gather some clues regarding the rogue humanoid's current whereabouts. Asking around actively was simply out of the question for it would draw unwanted suspicion onto himself, which would then snowball into a whole new flurry of rumors. No, he couldn't risk giving away his position or intentions.

Albel Nox, upon receiving the full report from his informant, had promptly dismissed the young spy and relieved him of his duties – permanently. He still glowered at the unfortunate prospect of him hadn't finding the time to clean off the fool's blood from his blade yet… Damn, that'd leave quite a rust.

Oh, the man had done nothing wrong; Albel just wanted to make sure no one else knew of his plans but himself alone. He'd rather not face persecution from the king before he saw his plan through till the end. Besides, his foolish, trusting sire was too preoccupied in siding with Vox to realize he was being led willy-nilly on a leash held tight by said Captain himself. There was a faster way to end this pointless war and that would be with a quick and painless surrender from the Aquarians once they realize that the Republic – the only neutral party and ally they had – have turned their backs on them as well; and with him pulling the strings from behind the scenes, he saw no reason how the Republic and himself couldn't pull off a convincing act to ensure Airyglyph's sole and unanimous victory against those spineless Aquarians.

'But first, that humanoid…' Albel reminded himself, his eyes darting about in caution as he made his way towards the town square.

He was technically wandering around enemy territory, what with Peterny being the centre of commerce for Aquaria, so he had to keep as low a profile as he could manage. This was the exact reason he left his gauntlet in the inn: he was too recognizable with it on, having earned quite the reputation from the mere sight of its design and choice as a weapon during combat. Instead, a fresh wrapping of bandages covered the entirety of his arm and base of his fingers where his gauntlet ought to be.

When he made it to the town square, he was slightly taken aback by the impressive variety of stalls set up and the insane crowd of shoppers and vendors that traversed around Peterny, purchasing, bargaining, and promoting their goods alike. The hustle and bustle was overwhelming compared to the slow-moving, almost scarce businesses in Airyglyph, making Albel feel slightly resentful and jealous of the opposing nation's progress and prosperity. However, he waved that thought away, convincing himself that all these would belong to his kingdom soon enough.

"Hmm. Somewhere inconspicuous, yet prominent for conversation…" He made a quick mental checklist of probable places that fitted such a description.

It was then that he noticed a quaint little café, which was set up right smack in the middle of the town square itself. A quick observation showed a high turnover rate and extreme tendencies for gossiping patrons to both sit around or pass through said cafe in lively conversation. Perfect. The more people came and went by, the less likely news would be repeated or centralized on the same topic. Furthermore, it was an open-air café, which meant he could keep both his eyes and ears peeled for anything pertaining to his mission amongst patrons and passer-bys at the same time.

As he took his seat, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread and piping hot brewed stew and wafted through his nose, stirring the slightest bit of hunger in him; his throat felt parched. He realized he hadn't had anything to eat or drink since he left the royal city. Well, at least actually patronizing this café would draw even less attention onto him compared to simply sitting around doing nothing. He raised his hand and motioned a cheerful waitress over.

'Better assume a different persona.' He forced a flirtatious smirk onto his features as he rested an elbow on the table top, cradling his head. He angled his face just right and narrowed his eyes in an attractive leer at the young maiden to convey his seeming interest in her. To his great pleasure, she bought it immediately.

"A-Ah! Y-Yes sir, what will it be?" The girl blushed and stuttered profusely, nearly dropping her quill and order pad twice. Albel had to resist a smirk. This was _too_ easy.

"I have _no idea_, sweetheart. Why don't you recommend something?" He did everything in his power to tolerate the blustering wrench as she prattled on about everything on the menu from A – Z. It was time to step things up a bit.

"_Actually_ – the waitress stopped speaking immediately – I just wanted to talk to you. I couldn't help but notice how lovely you are and thought I'd try my luck for some of your precious time. You're…" he trailed off with a suggestive edge to his voice, raking his gaze languidly over her from top to toe; he chuckled. "Well now, aren't you a tempting sight."

The redness shot up the girl's face faster than smoke rising up a chimney. Her stuttering increased tenfold and her hands shook as she sought to maintain her grip on the quill and order pad. Her gaze shifted back and forth between a smirking Albel to her boss behind the counter. She'd be _damned_ if she passed up a chance like this! Furthermore, this guy, whoever he was, practically _oozed_ **hot** and **sexy** and **oh so fine** – and for the love of Apris if she were to lose her virginity, it would _soooo_ be to this walking wet dream right here!

She lowered her lashes seductively and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I get off work at 5. In the meantime, why don't I whip up something nice for you to eat and drink? It's on me."

Albel let out a low, sensual chuckle, reaching out to twirl a lock of the waitress' hair around a finger. He leaned in close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of her ear, responding in kind, "I'll be waiting, sweetheart. Don't disappoint me."

He released her and watched in amusement as the young waitress scurried off, banging into tables and ignoring the other angry, impatient customers. Albel reclined on his chair, contented by the prospect of a free meal in exchange for some _fun_ tonight. He suppressed the cruel laughter that threatened to burst from his throat at the mere thought of that wrench's predictable stupidity and her ludicrous hopes and dreams. Her body wasn't even worth the dirt beneath his boot. Women would believe everything an attractive stranger suggested, as long as they thought they'd scored a good fuck for the night or for life.

_Bah!_

He'd leave before 5.

Albel sat in silence with his eyes closed; feigning indifference while his ears greedily absorbed the contents of whatever conversation that transpired around him. The first 5 minutes were rather dull and uneventful; ordinary, insignificant gossip involving some local bandits called the "Moon Shadow Clan" or whatever pathetic, unimaginative name they went by.

There were also a few differing but similar conversations in terms of content, regarding the recent shuttle crash in Airyglyph. Things had sounded pretty accurate at first from the description of a blue haired boy (Albel chose to ignore the unanimous opinion pertaining to the boy's stunning good looks) discovered within the object, but the contrary depictions of the boy's blonde partner ranged from a giant, yellow monster with bulky arms capable of smashing solid stone, to a really large and golden retriever. And then the rumors of Airyglyph's ruler killing the boy and adopting the puppy (which had somehow grown an affinity to military life and doubled-up as a combat puppy) and naming it "Fluffy" – OK, this was getting ridiculous.

A middle-aged woman and her old mother settled down at the table next to him and immediately launched into lively chatter about an adorable new Flower Girl in town –

"She was so cute and got all fired up when I told her so, I just _had_ to buy a rose from her." The woman let out a forlorn sigh. "Oh, if only little Martha could be as adorable instead of playing tag with those boys all the time… it's so unbecoming of a girl!"

The old woman nodded sagely, sipping her tea, "Indeed, indeed… But darling, I think he was a boy?"

"Nonsense, mother! How could a boy be _so cute?_"

Albel growled and rolled his eyes. Boy, girl – he _**did not care**_. Why were people so stupid? Why wasn't anyone talking about the humanoid? And why was his food taking so bloody long?

And then, he overheard something interesting from a group of half-drunk, ruddy-faced men a few tables down. What possessed them to indulge in alcohol at 1pm in the freaking afternoon heat was beyond him. It wasn't particularly difficult to catch what they were saying; they _were_ exceptionally boisterous after all.

"I 'ear 'at them blokes ran off ter Kirrrrlllsssaaaa…" one man slurred as he took another swing from his beer mug.

"Yeah, an' wit' some hot Aquarian red head too!" said another, slapping his thigh with a jolly cry. "Ho, ya' know how them Aquarian babes dress! Man would I _love_ ter get me a piece 'a _that!"_

Albel's eyes narrowed in displeasure, his grip on the table growing harsh as his nails dug into the sun burnt wood. It wasn't so much of the crude way the man had addressed his desires, but the substance of his words.

Nel-_fucking_-Zelpher: he should have known that hardheaded bitch would enter the playing field sooner or later. She and her little friends had interfered with his men and his missions far too frequently for his liking. Granted, she was Aquaria's best, but she was no worthy rival of his and even more of an eyesore than these dumpy peasant folk around him. So, it seemed she managed to breach Storm Brigade defenses and snuck those so-called pilots out, what's the big deal. What could a pair of foreigners possibly do to help Aquaria against the combined forces of Airyglyph's military cavalries, their influence over the Air Dragons, and the Republic, except to face an utterly humiliating defeat? Whatever they were planning had failure written all over it. The way he saw it, the odds were never in their favor to begin with.

Humph, so much for their faith in god.

"Hey, mister – "

'_Finally!'_ Albel thought and was just about to reprimand that useless waitress for her tardiness, only to stop short when his eyes met nothing but the scenery before him. An uncharacteristic stare of utmost confusion painted his features. But he just heard – wasn't there some one – there was a _voice_ –

… He swore this town was doing crazy things to his brain.

"Down here! _Helloooo!"_ came the spunky, confident voice this time laced with a hint of impatience. And so, in order to sate his curiosity, Albel looked down.

And then he snorted and turned away.

Red Riding Hood in a fruit tart. Cute.

"_Geez! _What crawled up 'ya keester 'n died?"

The Glyphian did everything in his power to resist his customary eye-roll. As much as he yearned to be a royal dick and give this bothersome brat a piece of his tortured mind (Damn this town. Make all the happy stop), he didn't. He was blending in; and when Albel blended in, he _really_ blended in.

He had no idea when was the last time he worked his cheek muscles. God, it hurt. It hurt so bad.

"My _apologies_…" his eyes racked the child's frame critically, "little girl."

"_Excuuuuse me? _Do I _sound_ like a girl to 'ya? C'mon, I dare ya! I dare ya to look me in the eye and say that again!"

And somehow, he managed to offend the brat when he was actually trying to be _nice._ Would today's wonders ever cease?

The corner of Albel's eye gave a barely noticeable twitch as he fought to maintain his smile. If only he had a mirror, then he would be able to see how distorted and thoroughly unconvincing his expression had become.

"I'm afraid now isn't the right time – he took a shot in the dark – _boy._ I get rather sour when my meal gets delayed." His eye twitched again when he realised the kid was still there staring at him expectantly. "… Can I help you?"

The flower girl – _boy_, flashed him a cheeky grin and the Glyphian swordsman spied a tiny snaggle-tooth peeking out from the child's mouth.

"I'm helping out a friend!"

No response.

"Helpin' her sell flowers!"

Still no response.

"I'm Roger by the way!" he offered his hand in a friendly shake. "What's your name, mister?"

Albel raised an eyebrow in pure condescend. Roger withdrew his hand uneasily and cleared his throat. Talk about a tough customer…

"Y-Ya know what would make 'ya feel better?" Albel's expression was positively nonplussed.

"You disappearing permanently and leaving me the hell alone?" The kid actually snorted, which displeased him greatly.

"No, 'ya moron! A flower!" And for emphasis, a lovely crimson rose was shoved under his nose so quickly that it made him go nearly cross-eyed. He noticed the thorns had been trimmed and the rose wasn't in full bloom yet.

In order to get the flower out of his face, Albel snatched it begrudgingly and stared at it with as much contempt one would towards a potential mother-in-law. He decided to ignore the 'moron' comment to avoid causing a scene.

"This cheap plant would vastly alleviate my mood, _how?_" he said in a noncommittal drawl, vaguely wondering in the back of his mind why he even bothered patronizing this child in the first place. The boy simply shrugged.

"Dunno. Maybe 'ya could eat it or summin'… 100 fol please!" Albel nearly whacked him with said flower.

"I _will not_ pay 100 fol for a rose!"

"Man you're cheap."

"I am _not_ being cheap, you _worm!_ You just marked up its value by 90%!"

Albel threw the rose on the table in a huff. This was getting ridiculous. There was no sign or word about a wandering humanoid, his food was taking an obscenely long time to be prepared, and to top it all off, he found himself unconsciously and unwillingly entertaining this aggravating, amateur flower-scammer. The thought of leaving this godforsaken town was extremely tempting. He was chasing a cold trail and wasting his time.

"Hey, mister…"

"_WHAT?" _snapped Albel, turning sharply to glare down resentfully at the now nervous and terrified boy. His expression and personality had clearly taken a 180-degree turn on the scary side. Good.

The child swallowed audibly and with a shaky finger, pointed at the swordsman's fully bandaged left arm. His eyes had gone wide, his dark pupils swimming in something akin to horrific awe. Albel exhaled in exasperation, mentally cursing his glaring disability. This was usually the part where people cooed and coddled him, asking what had happened, who could be so cruel as to bestow such an injury to a "young" and "good-looking" man like him, if it hurt, if it was real, if it -

"Ain't it inconvenient for 'ya?"

"… What?" said Albel unintelligently, having not expected such a question in the slightest. This was… new.

The kid called Roger gestured at the bandaged arm in emphasis. He had an uneasy look on his face, his little nose twitching as if sensing the other's discomfort. His eyes looked both sad and confused all the same. "I mean, ain't it a problem for 'ya 'ta wield yer sword… write… eat? You're left-handed, aren't 'ya?"

Albel's eyes had gone wide with astonishment and he was just about to demand how the hell the nosy little brat knew that piece of personal information, until he remembered how he gripped and tossed the rose earlier. It was an insignificant action, bodily mechanics of daily habit that could have easily been missed or completely deemed irrelevant by the human mind; but this boy, Roger, caught it immediately. His observant nature, his thought process and prioritising information, his actual, unbiased and heartfelt childish concern: this boy was different; and Albel couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but something was nagging at him at the back of his mind that there was more to this Roger than the kid himself was letting on.

The Captain's eyes narrowed in suspicion, never letting his guard down, however his crimson gaze swam with unrestrained interest that even he himself failed to suppress completely.

An awkward pause. "Yes…" Albel spoke with the slightest hint of uncertainty, his usual air of conviction absent. When Roger only offered him a small smile in response, he hesitated again. "… And to what does it concern you?" Damn, this kid was rattling his composure.

Oblivious to the storm of confusion raging within the confines of the Glyphian's sanity, Roger moved to cross his arms, impressed and all approving. "Nuttin'. I just realised your sword is strapped to 'ya left, which means 'ya probably use it with 'ya right hand, which means you're ambidextrous, which means 'ya must be a real skilled fighter!"

It amazed him how knowledgeable the boy was. Not every one could identify this little detail about the wield of a swordsman. The boy probably either knew some general knowledge on combat, or had some first-hand experience of his own. He had to shake his head mentally at the latter thought. He was only a child; what would he know about combat and weaponry.

Albel had to restrain his surprise when the kid suddenly jumped on the seat opposite him to stare at him with eyes that shone of triumph.

"Am I right? Am I right? C'mon, tell me I'm right!"

And that was when Albel found himself giving in, his brain and effectively his cold, rigid sense of judgement shutting down to make way for something more foreign, something he thought he had locked away forever, something… warm.

He relaxed, feeling strangely contented. "… You're – " But before he could get another word out, the young waitress had returned in a flurry, carrying a large bowl of hot piping stew in-between her mitten-encased hands.

"Special order for my _adorable, famished _swordsman! Sorry for taking so long the stew needed at least 15 minutes to – _AHHH!"_

Much to Albel's grave disappointment, the stupid wrench had been so excited to serve him that she tripped over her own feet. Unfortunately, he didn't count on the hot bowl flying out of her hands in a perfect arch, and its steaming contents landing directly on his –

"_ARGHHHHH – MY ARM! WRENCH!" _

The cry was as piercing as it was frightening, with the waitress cowering fearfully before a set of raging crimson that spelt death, doom and ultimate agony in its swirling depths. Heads turned and by now, most people in the near vicinity had adverted their gaze to the source of the commotion.

"_YOU… FUCKING…_ _CLUMSY_… UNGH!" Forget it. The pain was so bad it was scrambling his brain, disrupting his coherency, discrediting his importance, damaging his pride.

If the stew had spilled on his right arm, perhaps he could still emerge with the barest of cringes and a ghost of a grimace. However, his left arm told a different story. The scarred appendage was his eternal physical vulnerability, a never healing wound that saw no conclusion to his agony. A dragon's wrath should never be trifled with; he wasn't even deemed worthy to live and yet here he was in his father's place; and he was paying the price for his insubordination.

He was gripping his arm so tightly, he couldn't differentiate the pain between that action and the scalding his raw flesh undertook. It was a strain to keep his eyes open. All he wanted to do was surrender, to shut his lids and retreat somewhere where the stares of the masses could no longer follow him and his every move.

"I-I'm sorry, I – Let me help you. I'll get a wet towel," whimpered the waitress.

With as much strength as he could muster, Albel shoved her away with his uninjured hand. He didn't _need_ help. He wasn't _weak. _

"_Grrr!_ Quit bein' a moron and lemme see that!"

Roger surged forward, thoroughly irritated by the older male's apparent bravado and frantically unwrapped the soaked bandages. The task proved arduous, what with the man struggling and resisting so passionately, but when they were finally off, he had to force himself to maintain his composure and not vomit out his entire breakfast. The raw wound smelled utterly revolting, like the putrid stench of a decaying carcass well into its third week of decomposition. How this man's arm was still very much alive and intact with the body went beyond Roger's understanding, but the slight tingling beneath his fingertips when he touched the arm hinted the barest traces of draconic magic. The man was cursed.

"You'll be OK. Jus' bear with me fer a bit," he consoled gently.

Albel struggled to speak, but when his tired eyes met determined hazel, he hated himself for succumbing to the pain.

He wasn't weak…

_A child stood before the surge of rushing flames, paralysed with fear and eyes wide with unshed tears. The ceremonial circle beneath his feet had faded, his sword by his side in his limp hand. A large body moved forward._

"_Albel! Get behind me! Stay behind me!"_

He **couldn't **be weak.

"_Father!"_

_The man pulled the frail boy close, his embrace protective and desperate. The temperature around them rose to an unbearable level._

"_Don't look, Albel! Don't look!"_

"_But father – "_

"_Listen to me," the man's voice seemingly echoed around them, resonating along with it a definite promise and purpose. The child felt a pair of chapped lips press against his forehead. _

"_You're my son, and that's all the reason I'll ever need. That's why you will survive this. And no matter what happens, no matter what anyone has ever said or will say from tomorrow on, I'm proud of you. I've never been more proud to have you as my son."_

_The last thing he felt was a cool wetness upon his face, before he screamed._

* * *

Hot. Everywhere felt hot and his body burned with the heat of the memory and the pain. But then, he heard a voice, a voice that was steadily becoming clearer than the chattering townsfolk around him and the haunting echo of his father's words. Then, a new sensation washed over his senses in the gentlest of whispers, clearing his mind and easing the turmoil in his tortured heart. He felt so much lighter, calmer, the unbearable and raging heat being chased away by a soothing warmness that he secretly yearned for to stay.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed two things: one, the crowd had gone silent and two, a faint green glow danced over the flesh of his now closed wound. His eyes widened a fraction larger than he was accustomed to. The kid was healing him.

Roger continued to focus his energies on the task at hand, doing his best to force out his abilities while allowing it to flow naturally at the same time. It was, least to say, difficult to heal some one else within a short period from Ameena. On top of that, he wasn't used to exercising this particular ability of his, ever.

The Menodix wondered why he was even bothering being this generous. After all, his main purpose of being here was to gather information about Nel's current whereabouts and the strange object that fell from the sky, _not_ play doctor to every Tom, Dick and Harry that passed him by. However, there was just something about this grumpy swordsman that screamed for his immediate attention. Perhaps it was how cool he looked with his dignified and graceful posture against this gaiety backdrop; perhaps it was the inspiring discovery of his obvious skill despite hi physical handicap. But more than anything, what Roger was absolutely sure of, was that the tall, broody man looked lonely and when he screamed, it was one of desperation not pain… and he had wanted to fix that.

The green glow faded and he pulled away. "There. That oughta do it! Now, about that 100 – " Roger paused, his eyes bulging in terror and throat going inexplicably dry. Earlier, he had felt the slightest aura of a draconic curse, but now his suspicions were confirmed, the discovery reaching its climax in a crescendo of horrors.

On the swordsman's arm was a scar left as evidence from the healing, but instead of a normal mark, the scar took the shape of a dark red Air Dragon: the symbol of Airyglyph. Roger scrambled to his feet and without saying another word to the stunned swordsman, fled the scene.

He had just helped a Glyphian soldier; his identity had been compromised. He and Ameena had to leave right now.

Back at the town square, Albel slowly rose to hit feet, feeling for the second time of his life, completely lost.

'What just happened?' he found himself wondering. Despite being somewhat disoriented, he was clear on the single fact that abilities such as the kid's were uncommon for both Glyphians and Aquarians. The only exceptions were the followers of the Holy Mother, descendants of Aquarian agents trained in the art, or…

"Humanoids," Albel realised, but stopped himself from getting too carried away. A theory was a theory; he needed to verify the facts. He fixed his gaze upon the forgotten rose on the tabletop and after much deliberation, took it between his fingers. He couldn't explain it, but he _had_ to find out who Roger really was. At last, he had a lead.

His hunger now nothing but a distant memory, Albel turned towards the direction of his inn and was about to take his leave when the meek, confused voice of the café waitress called out to him.

"S-Sir? Wait! Um… what about our date?" Albel didn't so much as spare her a parting glance.

"You're no use to me, worm. My interest lies in someone else."

* * *

**Author's note:**

As usual, Albel was so much fun to write because of his grumpy personality.

And is that the hinting of an Albel/Roger I see?


End file.
